How to Adopt a Warden and Other Tales
by HowltheGreat
Summary: A collection of stories about the Warden's life, from his adoption by the Couslands to being the lover of King Alistair. (M/M Slash. M!Warden & Alistair)
1. Chapter 1

Excerpt from 'Legend of the Warden' Page 5

To start the tale of the Warden, one must start from the beginning. To understand the actions and events that are now deeply engraved in our current world, one must understand the past. To begin with, Izarre Cousland was not always such. He was not born to the nobility that came with the Cousland title. Like many of the unfortunates that wandered the streets of Highever, the would-be Warden lived a meager existence as a cutpurse and typical delinquent. Having no knowledge of his parents, he was only known for his gentle features, stark-white hair, and piercing, green eyes. It was always assumed he was of mixed blood, having the softened features of the Elven race without the sharpened ears. The white hair that would naturally stand out was so often dirtied with soot and dirt; it was hard to place him out of the crowd of other wild children who would run through the streets barefooted on a daily basis.

In the evenings, they would cuddle together in shacks, using old hay and bits of ruined cloth for bedding. If caught stealing, they were beaten, but no one would take in a stray. Many of these boys did not know their parents, being the unwanted children of whores and barmaids. Some were made through saucy affairs, while others were simply abandoned after a loss of a homestead, fortune, or family to disease. Izarre's earliest memories were of these times. While life on the streets was not glamorous, it looked like quite the adventure to a rich boy locked away in a castle by his parents. Fergus Cousland, the only child and son of the Teyrn and Teyrna, often daydreamed by the window while he should have been focusing on studies.

To lock a child up was cruel, he often thought to himself, and felt it his duty to mingle with his people...so long as that mingling meant he got to run the streets like the boys he saw in the marketplace. After much planning, the young Cousland managed to do just that. On a sunny afternoon, as the old tutor had dozed off yet again in the large comfortable chair with a heavy book upon his chest, Fergus took the opportunity to sneak out through the servant's entrance by the back of the kitchen. Draping himself in a 'borrowed' cloak, he hurried through Highever to the busy streets. Fascinated by the smells, sounds, and thrill of freedom, he looked like a young tourist in his own town. As he wore the fancy clothes of his noble upbringing, he was also made to be an easy target.

Izarre had taken a silent notice of the young man, smirking to himself at who he must be. A rich son of a merchant perhaps? The spoiled brat of a noble women who was off spending her husband's coin on yet another piece of clothing? The questions occupied his mind which relieved an empty stomach, at least, until the naive boy was hassled into a back alley. Even at the young age of only ten years, Izarre could smell danger. To be fair, he had been on his own as long as he could remember. Being able to sense foul play kept him alive.

Off in a back alley, young Fergus was cornered and surrounded. While he was trained to fight by the best fighters, including his own father, there were simply too many of them. It was quiet until the sound of a broken board was heard, immediately followed by the sound of someone falling down face first.

"Stop standing there, you idiot! Come on!" Turning to give another one of the assailants a swift kick to the groin, Fergus felt his hand grabbed and armed pulled. As if in instinct, his feet began to move on their own, being pulled along by a child who barely came up to his chest. There wasn't any time to ask questions, as they were being chased as well. They ran through alleyways, dilapidated homes, and finally resting with their backs pressing against the wall, hiding under a dirty canvas. There was much noise and swearing as the pack of young thugs lost sight of their prize and turned tail before the guards came.

Fergus heard the sound of his heart beating out of his chest, his breath short and he panted uncontrollably. Turning, the boy next to him stood perfectly still, their hands still clamped together tightly.

While the young Cousland seemed exhausted from their run, the other child did not. Looking over, he noticed the bright white hair and the smooth pale skin dressed in dirty rags. There were also no shoes any were to be found on the small dirty feet. Instinctively, the rich boy put a hand up, pushing the messy white hair aside to check for signs of being a knife ear, but the pale ear was just as rounded as his own. Being touched so causally, Izarre jumped away like a startled cat. The green eyes glared at Fergus like a cornered wild animal. Letting go of the hand, Izarre pushed the dirty canvas off of their frames, taking in a breath of fresher air. "That was close. You're pretty stupid..."

"I...Excuse me? How dare you..." Before the Cousland could retaliate, he felt the need to sigh in relief. This child was not his enemy. "I mean...thank you..." Izarre looked over, giving a shrug.

"You can cut through that alley and get back on the main streets. The marketplace can still be heard. Go home." With that Izarre sat down, as he had no home, this was as good of a place as any. Giving a nod, Fergus moved to walk away, but stopped. "Aren't you coming?"

"No."

Such a blatant answer, it threw the young noble off-guard. "Why not? What's your name? You should come with me, I mean, you saved my life and all. Father said I should never abandon a debt." Izarre only glared, his overgrown and messy cut hair hiding one of the angry eyes. "My name is Fergus. Fergus Cousland, of the Teyrn and Teyrna Cousland...You do know who that is...right?" Tilting his head, Izarre only blinked.

"You mean you live in that big castle? Why would you come down here?" He paused to smile. "You really are an idiot."

"I'm not! I just wanted to see what it was like...and I'll take you to my home where my father can repay you. You deserve a reward for saving me! And...then you can go back to your home..."

"I don't have a home."

Now it was Fergus's turn to look confused. "Not have a home? What do you mean? Everyone has a home. You know, it's the place with your mother and father..."

"Don't have those either."

"Then where do you live?"

Shrugging again, Izarre stood up and dusted himself off, though it made little difference. "Tonight? I don't know. Maybe, over there? That looks dry." Pointing over at the pile of broken wood and canvas, Fergus looked and absolutely cringed.

"That's..." It only startled him more as a large rat came crawling out of one of the canvas's holes. "Ugh...that's foul! I forbid it. The savior of my life is not sleeping in a rat nest!" For the first time since they met, Izarre laughed.

"Don't you know anything? The rats keep it warm. Then you can kill them and make stew for later." The look that painted Fergus's face only pushed the laughter to be louder. Fergus joined in, still chatting about how utterly disgusting that was.

"It's decided then. You'll come home with me. I don't have anyone at home...I was going to have a little brother or sister, but Mother couldn't make it with the baby. They...said that they aren't going to let me have any siblings after that. " The smile faded into a distant memory of sadness after saying such a thing. Quickly, it was shaken off as Fergus moved to take Izarre's hand. "Your name? I need to know the name of my new brother."

"...It's...Izarre." The young white haired boy stood still, despite being touched yet again. He was amazed how easily he was accepted and at accepting Fergus Cousland's naive kindness.

"Izarre? You mean like star? That name really suits you with that weird hair of yours! How did you get such funny hair anyway? Only old men have white hair like that."

"I...was born with it, so they told me."

"Alright then, Little Star. We need to get back to the castle before they notice I'm gone." As Fergus gripped the small hand, Izarre allowed himself to be led, only speaking up to give directions back to the castle. Sneaking through the entrance, past the guards and gates, they managed to get to the young lord's large room. While Izarre didn't believe the tale that he rescued a young Cousland, he was starting to now. The bedroom was everything told in stories that included the rich and noble blooded. The sheets were made of silk, the bed large enough for at least five boys his own size. It would have been wonderful if they were not greeted at the door by a large mabari hound. The wardog jumped to defend his master from the small intruder, only to be bopped on the nose by Fergus. "That's enough out of you! Quiet before mother hears! This is Izarre, and he's my brother now, so be nice to him!" Izarre, who had taken to hiding beind Fergus, peeked over to look at the dog. The dog and small child glared at each other before the dog began barking happily. He acknowledged the little boy as a friend and was glad to have someone else to possibly pounce on and play with.

"FERGUS! What is all that noise!" The sound of a scolding mother was heard, even from down the hall and behind a closed door.

"ACK! It's Mother! Quick! Hide under the bed!" Startled, Izarre scurried like a mouse under the bedframe, the hound following after him. The dog panted loudly until hushed by Izarre. With a whimper, it shut its mouth. The large door swung open as Fergus went to sit innocently on his bed. Izarre could only see around Fergus's ankles as they were attempting to shield the view.

"I know you snuck out today, Fergus. Thank the Maker, you're home safely. You have no idea how worried your father and I were about you!"

"Oh, let the boy be, dear. The young lad just wanted a little adventure. He's old enough..."

"That's no excuse, Bryce! He should have finished his lesson and...by the Divine, what is that smell? Where is your mabari?" Being called out, the war hound wiggled out from hiding. Turning to the bed, he began to bark as to call Izarre out as well. Playtime was over.

"What is he barking at?" The father was more curious than anything, and ducked under the bed. Fergus jumped to try to stop him.

"Wait! It's nothing, Father!"

In the darkness, Bryce Cousland only saw bits of white hair. "Is that a rabbit?" he asked before raising an eyebrow. "Is it dead?"

"A rabbit? Fergus, I told you not to bring in wild strays into the house! What if they have diseases!" his mother exclaimed. Fergus sighed, watching his father reach under the bed.

"OW! What in the world! I've been bitten!" Wrestling, Bryce finally managed to pull out Izarre, who was wiggling and kicking wildly. "It's...a child?"

Eleanor Cousland looked bewildered. Coming closer, she inspected the dirty pup. "Is it one of the servant's children? A thief?" Before the couple could come to an explanation, Fergus took Izarre's hand and pulled him down from his father's grasp.

"This is Izarre. He saved my life in the marketplace and now he's my brother." The struggling stopped as Fergus came within reach again and Izarre looked to him.

"Your...brother? Fergus, you don't have a..." began his father but was interrupted.

"I do now, alright?!" The hand that gripped Izarre's grew tighter as Fergus's frustration began to come out. Izarre's eyes softened, allowing his hand to be squeezed at tightly as it needed to be. "Izarre doesn't have a home, or parents. No one takes care of him and he has no one to play with! He saved my life and you told me never to abandon a debt, Father! He's my brother now and he's staying with me!"

The noble words of their kind hearted son stuck into the hearts of his parents. "Bryce..." Bryce turned to smile at his wife before kneeling in front of his son.

"You're right, Fergus. We never abandon a debt. If he saved your life, then we are grateful. He...can stay here...as your brother." The tears that were wheeled up in Fergus's face finally released, as did his grip on Izarre's smaller hand.

"Really? You mean it, Father?" Rubbing Fergus's clean brown hair, Bryce nodded. "I do. You're welcome to stay with us, Izarre...but first...we need to clean you up. You smell terrible..."


	2. Chapter 2

Izarre blinked as he was suddenly lifted into strong arms and carried. His size made it easy for this to be accomplished and it wasn't long before he was in the tub being scrubbed down from head to toe as his new mother and father watched from a safe distance. Though the faces he made were more than obvious that he disliked being touched, along with the occasional biting, he was eventually cleaned. Underneath the layers of dirt and filth was actually a child, with gorgeous, glowing white hair and large jade eyes.

It was a shame that the pale skin held so many scars and scrapes and the tub water had been blackened from the cleaning. Huddled under a large, soft towel, Izarre shivered as he felt as if he were on display for approval. His questionable looks could easily confuse him for both an elf and a young girl, but there were also just as many male and human features mixed in as well. It was hard to tell where the mix was and if there was even one. "Oh, he's simply adorable, Bryce. A little bunny after all that mud is off. Doesn't he look like an Orlaisian pup? The small ones with all that white fur?"

"Well, he certainly bites like one." Laughing, Bryce came over to look down at his new charge. "Your name is Izarre, right? That means star? Interesting. And Fergus says you saved him? You must really know how to handle yourself in combat. You'll make for a good sparring partner." The kind hand of the older man came to ruffle up the wet, white hair, making Izarre's body stiffen but it was easily pushed around. And so the days of Izarre Cousland came to pass. Fergus was delighted to finally have someone around his own age to play and duel with, despite the few years in age difference. The new child was also soon the latest gossip around the town. Some claimed that Izarre was really the Teyrn's child from an Elf mistress. Others claimed that the ghost of the child the Teryna miscarried came back to life, shown to be a spirit with glowing white hair. No matter what the rumor, the Cousland's raised Izarre as their own.

"Brother! Brother! Izarre!" Fergus was giving chase to younger sibling, who had walked out of dinner party in a hurry. "What's wrong with you? Shouldn't you be happy for me?" Fergus was now 17 years old and had just announced his engagement to his new bride. At 13, Izarre had walked out in anger.

"I am happy for you," the younger boy mumbled while looking to the floor, though his fists clenched tightly. The messy white hair of his youth had been pampered upon by a doting mother, who insisted that was to be grown out. Pulled up into a high ponytail, the long hair dangling against his back.

"So why are you walking out on..."

"You didn't tell me anything!" Izarre suddenly shouted. "And now you have a pregnant bride-to-be! You always used to tell me everything and now you're keeping secrets!" Fergus's toned softened. The naive son had grown into a strong young man with a chestnut-colored hair young woman to be his wife and mother of his unborn child.

"I...I'm sorry, brother. I wanted to have a surprise..."

"You're gone for nearly six months and come back like this?! ...I..." But Izarre soon closed his mouth. It wasn't because there was something he didn't want to say, but more because he didn't know what he wanted to say. Sighing, he turned to offer a smile. "I'm happy for you, Fergus. She's very pretty...You'll be a good lord one day." While Fergus caught the sadness in his younger brother's voice, he knew that was the best he was going to get. Despite the years together, Izarre knew his place. He had taken the last name, but he was not going to gain any titles. He treated others with great respect, while keeping his emotions heavily guarded. The only one he considered himself close to was Fergus, which was not in closeness of normal terms.

"Alright, let's get back to the party. I still have a table to drink you under."

It was at the balcony when Bryce came to his younger son later that night. He had a few things of importance to discuss, which included Fergus's new life. "Staring at the moon again, pup?" The moonlight glistened off of Izarre's white hair as he turned to look at his slightly intoxicated father. "I know you're upset about Fergus's wedding...but he'll still be your brother. And you'll still be my son. You won't inherit the castle...but you're always welcome here. Fergus loves you. So does your mother and I…" Smiling softly, Izarre nodded.

"And you smell like a brewery."

"I do not...W ell, perhaps a little...There is something else..."

"Yes, Father?" Pressing his lips together, Bryce wasn't sure if he was ready for this conversation. Though it had been bothering him for over a year, perhaps the alcohol gave him courage to speak.

"...In training today, your...well you've always had this very potent...aura, when you fight. You manage to strike fear in your enemies, your blades weaken your opponents…which is good..."

Freezing, Izarre had a terrible idea where this was going. "Well...yes, Father. You trained me well..."

"Bah! You had skills since you came here. I've never seen such reflexes and adaptation...however, lately..." A hand came to Izarre's shoulder, giving it a loving squeeze. "How long have you know about your magic, son?" There was a sigh. Truth was that Izarre had been getting into actual fights, not just in duels and training anymore. He wasn't just using simple tricks where he lie about when he was a little homeless thief anymore.

"...It's nothing serious...I don't go around casting fireballs or anything. That's embarrassing." Keeping their voices hushed, Bryce continued to speak.

"No. In fact, even with those auras, you're one of the fast blades I've seen. I'm very proud of you."

"...Are you...going to send me…" Izarre was about to ask about being shipped off to the Mage Tower before his father stopped him.

"Absolutely not. You're not a threat nor a true mage. I've never seen a mage fight like you and you never showed any signs of sparks or twinkles. Just be honest, have you heard the demons?" Laughing softly, Izarre nodded.

"Sure I have, and I tell those little shits to piss off. They all but gave up when I was a kid. I've been able to do these things since I can remember." There was the drunken sigh of a relieved father after that.

"Thank the Maker. I'd hate to lose you to that damned tower...you're much stronger than they are, Izarre."

"Bryce! Izarre! Come over here, my darlings!"

"Does Fergus know?"

"Yes."

"Don't tell your mother."

"Wasn't planning on it."

With that, the youngest and the eldest of the male Cousland's went to the beckoning call of the Teyrna. It would be six years later when the loving father, doting mother, young bride, and child of Fergus would be slain in the betrayal of Arl Howe.


	3. Chapter 3

Alistair was having a bad day. It wasn't unusually for him to be having bad days, as he often thought that if it weren't for bad days, he'd have no days at all. On a cloudy and windy day in the ancient Ostagar Fortress, the would-have-been Templar was now harassing a mage under orders. It was soon after the irritated mage stormed off did Alistair naturally assume that his day was going to get worse. Wandering up to him, their sharp green eyes trailing the back of the mage who just left, was the most interesting and beautiful creature he had ever seen.

She was a vision, dressed in leather armor, but obviously still quite young as her body had not taken the shape of a fully developed woman yet. She wasn't very tall either, which suited Alistair just fine. Perhaps, Elven? He wasn't picky, of course, all things considered but he did fall in love with her hair. It was this unusual, flowing white hair blowing in the wind that reminded him of swirling clouds or sea foam or something as equally lame and romantic. She didn't speak, just looked, and it was enough to find himself babbling like a brook. "You know... it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?"

"Excuse me?" Staring, Alistair could only blink.

"I...are you a man?" Leaning closer, Izarre's face stiffened at the sudden intrusion.

"Of course, I'm a man! Who the hell do you think you are?!" Alistair could not speak and his continued staring only pissed off the other young man even more. "My name is Izarre Cousland from Highever. Didn't Duncan tell you about me?" Izarre raised an eyebrow at Alistair, wondering if all the Grey Wardens were this inept or if it was just this one. As the leather gloved hand from Izarre moved to up to push Alistair's face away, young Alistair himself felt his day staying on course to remain terrible indeed.

"Right!" Alistair finally spoke, snapping out of the daze he was in. "That was the name! Izarre means star, right? You have to admit, that's pretty girly...And the way you look, no wonder I was confused..." Though the last line was mumbled, Izarre heard him, loud and clear.

"From the way I look? Excuse me for not looking like I lived under a bush for the last month! I'm here to be a Warden, not sexually assaulted by some pent-up letch..."

"I'm not some slobbering, drooling letcher...please stop looking at me like that."

Izarre's glare softened to a smile which allowed him to sigh. This man truly was an idiot. "Look, I didn't mean to be rude. I've just...had a very long past few days. I look forward to traveling with you."

"Huh, that's a switch," said Alistair was he dropped his guard. "Well, I'm Alistair. As the Junior member of the Order, I'll be helping you with the Joining. I can't tell you much about it, but that's how it is. Did you speak to the other members already? If not, I can gather them later." Izarre gave a nod, tucking a strand of loose hair behind a rounded ear. It was a terrible habit to have, but it proved enough that he wasn't an elf to onlookers who already questioned his heritage.

"I have."

"Good, we better get a move on to Duncan then. I'm sure he wants this over with as soon as possible considering what we're up against here." Again, Izarre nodded. "You don't talk much, do you?" Alistair's curiosity was admittedly peeked. This frail looking thing was not only a man, but recruited by Duncan himself. Not only that, but he felt no threatening or battle-hardened feeling from him. Not to mention that hair, how bizarre. While he had seen white, silky hair like this amongst the elves, a quick glace to the ears said he was otherwise. On Izarre's back were his weapons of choice, a sharpened dagger and a sword, embedded with the Cousland Family Crest. It was supposed to be his father's sword, his brother's sword, his nephew's sword, but now, it was his. Walking back to the tent in silence was uncomfortable to Alistair, but he felt the heavy burden that most new recruits felts. The current Warden knew all too well what the Joining was and how it could suddenly end.

"Duncan, I need to speak to you about the new recruit..." Before setting off to the Wilds, Alistair had stayed behind with the promise to meet the three recruits at the gate.

"That's unusual for you, Alistair. I understand you have a sense of justice, but Daveth..."

"No, not him. I get him. I'm talking about the one with white hair. Izarre. Who is..."

"Ah." Alistair was silenced effectively by Duncan's back turning to him as he went to organize some scrolls. "That is the Cousland's youngest. From Highever. Since the King already knows, I suppose I should update you as well. Arl Howe turned against the family, killing all, but the two of us."

"...What? Arl Howe? But why would he..."

"Opportunity comes in many forms. Arl Howe used the Blight as an excuse to empty the castle of Highever and used his own men to try to raise his position. He would have killed everyone and made the Cousland's out to be traitors." Pressing dried lips together, Alistair looked away as he processed the thoughts.

"But you said that King Cailin already knows..."

"Yes, and there is the Blight to worry about first. Young Cousland will get his chance, but he is a fine fighter. One of I best I've ever seen." Laughing, Alistair crossed his arms.

"Are you serious? I confused him for a woman and he barely comes to my neck. He's tiny and looks timid as a chantry mouse. How did he live? Ran into a hole and hid until you came to rescue him?" Laughing, Duncan turned to look back at his underling.

"Not at all. He cut through the guards, defended his mother, and managed to make it, but his father was badly hurt. His...mother stayed with his father...and his brother is lost here in the Wilds. A large burden has been placed upon him, Alistair. Please have more respect for my decisions. Izarre will prove himself to you, if you would stop bothering me with questions and head to the Wilds like I told you." Shocked, Alistair lowered his arms.

"Are...Are you serious? He managed to cut through guard like that?"

"Ah, yes. There is another thing...As you may or may not have heard, Izarre is not a true Cousland. He was adopted at a young age by the family, but you and I both know that blood has nothing to do with family."

"Ah...yes...I heard such rumors...and...you're right. I apologize. I'm heading out now."

"Maker be with you, Alistair."


	4. Chapter 4

Hating to admit it, Duncan was right. In fact, all of the recruits were very skilled. Daveth was quick with a blade for sure, but deadly accurate with a bow. Ser Jory swung that large sword around with slow, but ending blows. As for Izarre, the mild-mannered and petite noble changed entirely when faced between life or death. Showing no fear, he was quick to duck behind the Darkspawn, who seemed to be heavily afflicted by simply being cornered. It was something that Alistair couldn't quite place, but had decided not to doubt the outcome. It did, however, bother him that Izarre and Daveth seemed rather chatty. Both had grown up on the streets, making their living as they could. It was a friendliness that Alistair did not receive.

Gathering the vials of blood was easy enough, but the real mission was to find these treaties. Fighting both Darkspawn and the wilderness was hard as is, but at the broken and rather empty chest, came a vile creature. Despite having a beautiful body, curves to die for, and a very exposed chest, Alistair could smell evil a mile away. Unfortunately for Izarre, Morrigan could smell magic a mile away as well. While ignoring Alistair's idiocy, Morrigan quickly turned her attention to Izarre, whose crippling miasmic aura was pouring out from him in a nearly invisible offence. Giving him a knowing smile, Izarre relaxed and the dark cloud faded. "That's interesting," she cooed to herself softly, causing Alistair's eyebrow to raise.

"Right...So if you can just take us to your mother and we can get back our property, you can go back to turning people into toads or whatever it is, you wild witch people do." At Flemeth's hut, Izarre's nose twitched. He hated being around other mages, as he sensed them just as he was sniffed out himself. Remaining as polite as possible, he wanted to leave. Quickly. As Morrigan whispered things to her mother, Izarre went to stare at the vast swamp. Daveth and Ser Jory had taken a seat on a rotted log, sharpening their swords and arrow tips, as Alistair took the opportunity to try to warm up to the Cousland. He felt a twinge of guilt from doubting his skills in combat before...and… you know, after finding out that his entire family had been recently slaughtered.

"So...I heard from Duncan that you're from Highever..." It was an awkward start, to say the least, but at least it was something. "You haven't asked many questions about the Order...I know when I first started, I had a ton of questions..." The silence remained and it was still awkward. Looking over and up to Alistair, who stood a head height over him, Izarre stared. It wasn't a look of confusion, but the same look he gave nearly anyone who tried to be friendly with him.

"I...yes. I came from Highever...and...I told you that already."

"You did? Oh..OH...right...with the mage...yeah. Never mind." Cracking a smile, Izarre rotated his own body to face the bumbling warden better with crossed arms.

"You have a really bad memory, don't you?"

"Well, some say it's the memory of a goldfish, but I say, why insult the goldfish?" Laughing at his own joke, Alistair was surprised when Izarre laughed too. It was really like night and day. While fighting, Izarre was a murderous beast, showing no mercy...but here, between smiling and laughter, he was gentle and...soft? Was soft a good word for it?

"Aren't those two going at it a little heavy?" Daveth had kept his voice low, nudging Ser Jory with an elbow. A few feet from them were the pair, smiling and laughing at each other. Ser Jory only shrugged, continuing to sharpen his blade.

"None of my business between two men. Though Izarre does look a bit like a girl, I couldn't do it myself. Strictly for the ladies, I am. Can't wait to see my wife again and greet my babe as a Grey Warden. What about you, Daveth? Any plans after this?"

"Well, if we survive the battle, that is? Yeah, I think I'll just stay here away from any city guards who might get the notion I can still be hanged, Grey Warden or not."

"Ahem." The small amount of happiness was interrupted by Morrigan's throat clearing. "If you'll allow me to interrupt your little flirting, here are your treaties. Now leave."

"Fl..Flirting? I wasn't flirting. We were just talking and making jokes, right?" Alistair's babbling was always the worst when he was nervous. As for Izarre, he only looked to Alistair before taking the ancient scrolls in hand.

"Thank you, Morrigan."

"Hey, I wasn't flirting." The scoffing of both Daveth and Ser Jory made the hair on the back of Alistair's neck stand. "I wasn't!"

"Alright Alistair, you weren't flirting." A comforting hand came to the warden's shoulder by Daveth, who pointed at the back of a walking away Izarre. The long white ponytail that swung back and forth in stride that dangled just above his lower back was hypnotic. "Just like, you're not staring right now."

"I'm not!"

"That's what I said." Giving another pat, Daveth walked away. As Alistair made a face, another hand came to his shoulder in comfort. This time it was Ser Jory, who only gave a sympathetic face. "What...What was that about!? Hey! Wait up!"

When Morrigan led the group back to the gates of Ostagar, Duncan was waiting for them back at camp for the Joining. At these moments, Alistair's stomach always tightened. Standing at Duncan's side, he did as instructed, speaking the words since the First. Out of the three friends he could have made, only one survived. Despite the horrible deaths, Alistair felt relieved that Izarre survived out of them all. Unfortunately, there wasn't time to mourn. There was a tower to climb and a beacon to light. The battle lines had been drawn and it was time to stand up and fight, be it victory or death in trying.


	5. Chapter 5

Maybe Duncan sensed it, the betrayal that came along with this battle? Maybe it was his Warden blood that allowed him to know that Loghain was a coward, a traitor, and a murderer? Maybe he just sensed that Darkspawn that were tunneling into the tower? Whatever the reason was, as Alistair stood on the banks of the swamp pacing back and forth, all of these thoughts came to mind. The question above all of them was; why was he still alive while everyone else was dead?

Another question came to his mind as he replayed the final moments in his head that he could remember. As the giant ogre came to smash an oversized fist onto Alistair's beaten body, for possibly the last time considering how battered he already was, why did it stop? Well, that was easy enough to answer, at least.

It was frozen.

He remembered a blinding white light and the monster suddenly freezing in place. It gave him just enough of a chance to jump up from pure adrenaline and stab the beast once, or twice, for all. It was that at moment where Alistair was trying to remember the rest while waiting outside of the hut which belonged to Flemeth.

He had, once again, found himself in the swamp staring out into the abyss of wilderness. The only other survivor was barely alive and all this Warden could do was simply wait. Still, what had happened? On top of the tower, yes, there was a mage, who was dead.

Pretty sure that getting picked up by an ogre and having your head bitten off meant death.

The other guard, who had followed the pair of wardens up to the tower, was also dead. Torn in half, the poor sod. This meant that the only ones who were left were Alistair, who himself couldn't even do a proper card trick, and Izarre...who...?

"You can stop grieving now, your friend is in one piece." Flemeth's gruff voice interrupted Alistair's train of thought long enough from him to be more concerned that he wasn't the only survivor and less concerned about darkspawn popsicles.

"You...You're alive," Alistair said as he saw his new friend emerge from the hut's doorway. Holding a bandaged side, Izarre gave a reluctant nod. He had taken a nasty blow to the chest before being rescued. Alistair knew very well that that blow was meant for him and he had been shielded by this beautiful new companion. "...I'm sorry...about that. I should have been faster with my protection..." To his surprise, Izarre simply shrugged, not wanting to go into details about what may or may not have occurred before being saved by Flemeth. Flemeth wasn't talking about it either, as she was much too busy teasing Alistair about being a Warden and giving him details about what happened to the rest of the army.

"But what about my brother? I need to find him," Izarre voiced worry for his still missing family member.

"Do not concern yourself with such small matters. There is a Blight to deal with and you are a Warden," Flemeth dismissed him. Looking to Alistair, Izarre truly wondered if the Warden's even still existed between himself and the other man anymore. "And you have your treaties, you have other allies..."

"Can we really do that? Raise and army and take on the Blight?" Alistair had to question to logic behind this, if there was any to be found, and looked to Izarre for answers.

Izarre remained silent for a moment as his eyes narrowed."...We don't have a choice," he said. "If stopping a Blight is what it takes to get revenge for my family and find my brother, then I'll stop it." He turned to like at Alistair. "With or without you." The sharp words stung the other Warden in a way he did not expect.

"Well if you're going, then I'm going too. We need to work together."

"Mother, dinner is ready..."Morrigan finally emerged from the hut, only to be stared at. The sudden announcement of her departure was unexpected news to everyone. As Alistair loudly voiced his objection, Izarre gave a nod. Turning to leave, Morrigan's words suddenly stopped the Cousland in his tracks. "Two mages for this little hike through the woods isn't necessary, Mother. I don't need to..."

"Nonsense, girl. The more the merrier! That boy needs proper training . Think of it as an adventure." Giving a sigh, Morrigan caved.

"Very well, Mother..." Alistair had also turned to leave with his fellow warden, before overhearing the conversation.

"Two mages? Training?" Izarre only paused for a moment, before continuing to walk ahead in hopes that this wouldn't be dragged out into the open. "I knew it! You ARE a mage...why didn't you tell me? I mean...you're an apostate..."

"I'm not a mage! Stop calling me that!" snapped Izarre who shot another irriated look in Alistair's directly while still holding onto his bruised side.

"You shouldn't be ashamed to be what you are, boy." Flemeth's voice was louder than even Izarre's constant protesting and current bickering with Alistair. Morrigan could only watch, rubbing her brow with an index finger and thumb. "Well, don't just stand there, girl. Be on your way." Sighing again, Morrigan walked to the pair of Wardens to stand directly in between them.

"If you two don't stop arguing, the Darkspawn will come to back just to shut you up." The wild, yellow eyes turned to look directly at Alistair. "Especially you." Taking a step back, the older of the two wardens slightly stammered.

"Me? What did I do?"

"Must I state the obvious?" At least now, there was bickering was between Alistair and Morrigan, leaving Izarre's powers and origins out of the conversation.

"Enough already, or I'll throw you both at the horde and do this alone." Despite the threats that came from him, the Cousland cracked a smile.

"Fine, fine. But I'm keeping away from her. I much rather take my chances with you than some bitchy...spell flinger." Throwing up his arms, Alistair moved to walk side-by-side with Izarre.

"Bitchy Spell Flinger? My, my, that's so original..." Morrigan allowed them some distance before following as well. She gave a last look to the hut and her mother, her harsh expression dropping for just a moment as the feeling of regret washed over. When she turned back to face her new companions, the charade of icy and uncaring came back to mask the saddened face. Alistair remained silent most of the way, his thoughts dwelling on Duncan's final moments. His expression of grief nearly matched Izarre's, whose eyes searched desperately for any sign of Fergus, still believed to be lost somewhere in these woods. The sentiment was shared with Fergus's mabari hound as it sniffed heavily for any signs of its master.

The trail, or lack thereof, out of the Wilds and to the small town of Lothering was full of its own dangers. There were wolves and other wild beasts, driven out of their homes from the marching horde of the Darkspawn, were constantly alerted and attacked the group. There were giant rodents, insects, and other pests who would also attack in search of food or had been driven mad through Darkspawn taint. Morrigan, from her distance, watched the subtle closeness that Alistair shared with the other Warden. It was little things, such as holding up tree branches, offering a hand on slickened moss-covered rocks and logs, or even running ahead to make sure it was safe. She was all but surprised that he didn't cover puddles with a cloak. She also noticed that Izarre hardly ever took such offerings of chivalry, clearing brush with hurdled jumps, cutting away low hanging branches with a dagger, and found easier paths to walk around questionable areas.

However, the few times he did take a hand or duck under a held up branch, Alistair looked rather happy.


	6. Chapter 6

Lothering was a mess. It had all been abandoned by the local guard and pillaged for its remaining goods and resources. Bandits had claimed the roads and backfields while the handful of Templars left tried to protect the Chantry as if it would stop the darkspawn. There were bodies that littered the road as they entered the town. There were also a few bandits who decided to try to rob blind anyone fleeing the Blight. Alistair was impressed that his companion had the restraint enough not to kill them outright, if by restraint, he meant that they had fled for their lives while only missing a few fingers and gold coins from their purses.

The Chantry was no refuge from the looks of it. It was instead an overstuffed building filled with people who should have already been running for their lives. Outside, the local bar still had a few cutthroats enough to start your typical bar fight. There was something about a woman with red hair that always meant trouble. This one was even dressed as a cloister sister. "Shouldn't we…uh…help?" Alistair asked as Izarre leaned over the counter to buy a round of drinks. He gave a look to Alistair and shrugged with a mug to his lips.

"Give me your boot knife then."

"Boot knife?" Alistair asked while removing it from its ankle holster. Upon handing it over, he saw it gracefully tossed into one of the rowdy men's jugular, a move that made the combatant sister pause from her own fighting to stare at the sudden spray of blood.

"Helped," Izarre smiled as he continued to enjoy his drink.

"That's not exactly what I meant," laughed Alistair, but accepted the mug of ale that had been pushed smoothly in his direction anyway. The fight was soon over, the ale was soon gone, and Izarre went to retrieve the knife from the dead man's throat. "Why, thank you," Alistair teased as he shook the blood from the blade before putting it back where it came from.

"Such a gentleman," spoke the red head as she walked up to the pair. "Not exactly defending a lady's honor, but it was quite a display."

"What honor were you about to lose?" Izarre smirked at her as he looked around to examine the bodies. "This wasn't a fair fight."

"No…No it wasn't," she replied with a solemn face. "I'm Leliana, by the way, and I'm here to follow you." Both wardens raised their eyebrows while looking at each other.

"Sorry, Can you…clarify?" Alistair asked.

"The Maker told me to be that I needed to be with you."

"Yes, well, that clears it up then, doesn't it?" Alistair laughed, though uneasily. Izarre just shrugged in response of him. "Sorry, but we're all stocked up on crazy here."

"You've seen me fight, what I can do." It was true; the woman could fight and fight dirty. It was something that admitted had intrigued Izarre.

"Fine, but you're buying your own drinks," the white-haired Warden stated matter of factly.

"Yes, you heard what he said. No means...what?!" Alistair exclaimed. "You can't be serious!"

"I remember you saying something about there being not enough women, Alistair."

"Sure, in the WARDENS. Not…," Alistair stopped himself with a defeated look upon his face. "Maker, you're serious, aren't you?" Izarre nodded and Alistair sighed heavily. "Fine…FINE…Let's just pick up every stray we find and throw them at this Blight. That'll stop them."

"Why do you think you're here?" Izarre teased, although it was almost lovingly.

"Isn't that the truth," Alistair grumbled as he looked over Leliana. Well, she was pretty…and making flirtatious body language to Izarre. With a loud cough, he stood between the two. "Alright, fine, but I hope you like mages…OOF! Ow…" He had just taken a sharp elbow to the gut for that. Outside of the tavern, Morrigan rejoined the group and out of the corner of his eye, Izarre caught a glimpse of white hair and jade eyes similar to his own. It was only for a brief moment before it had vanished. While Leliana didn't mind mages so much, Sten was harder to get a reading on.

"So, you are a mage then?" Leliana asked as she trotted along in between Izarre and Alistair. "Funny. You don't _look_ like an apostate."

"Do apostates have a certain way of dress now?" gripped Morrigan as she walked behind closer to the ever stoic Sten.

"No, no I didn't mean that. I simply meant that most mages are…"

"Dress wearing cowards who are useless without a mage staff?" interrupted Izarre, continuing to look forward with the rest of the group behind him as they pressed their way towards the edge of the Brecilian Forest. Alistair stopped walking entirely as a long howl could be heard through the trees.

"Well, that's ominous," he said as he stopped to turn to his new friends. "Are you sure you want to go in there?" Izarre looked to the other warden with a frown.

"I don't think _want _has anything to do with it."

"Well said," Morrigan approved as she pushed passed the brush of leaves and twigs in front of their path. "But if you're too scared Alistair, maybe you should wait here. Would you like to hold my coin purse as well?" A smile cracked across her face. "It seems as though you may have left yours back at Ostagar."

"My coin purse? What are you…?" It took a minute for Alistair to realize that she was talking about his testicles. "Oh," he said flatly afterwards. "Cute." While Leliana and Sten followed Morrigan into the forest, Izarre stayed behind with Alistair for the moment.

"Don't let her get to you," he said as he took a step toward Alistair with a comforting smile.

"She doesn't get to me," Alistair replied with his eyes on Morrigan's back before he turned to look down at Izarre. "But do_ you_ trust her?" Izarre looked towards Morrigan's direction as well before looking back at the other warden.

"No," he said firmly but then cracked a smile. "But I don't trust anyone."

"Not even me?" Alistair laughed as he used an arm to push away branches that blocked the path. Izarre waited for him to do so before taking a step onto the dirt road.

"Especially you," he teased as Alistair followed him. The rest of the group was a few paces ahead already, but still in sight. It gave Alistair enough of the opportunity to bumble around with his words again.

"So, you don't trust me?" The tone was outside of Alistair's usual joking tone. Turning around, Izarre could see a hurt look.

"Only if you're walking behind me. Who knows what you're planning to do back there," he winked in an attempt to cheer Alistair up, but it only caused more embarrassment. Alistair's cheeks turned bright red and he looked away quickly. Before Izarre could say anything else, the rest of the group had stopped moving forward.

"Elves," Sten finally spoke.


	7. Chapter 7

In truth, Izarre never liked the elves. It wasn't that he had anything against them personally, but being _elf-like_ among other humans always made him an outcast. 'Beautiful' was what they called his long moonlight-colored hair. 'Mysterious' was another word used entirely too much to describe his smooth pale skin. Let's not forget the word, 'delicate'. Above all, he hated being called delicate. His high ponytail and loose bangs allowed for the rounded ear tips to be seen, which at least stopped the more racist comments about his heritage.

The forest had plenty of low hanging branches for Alistair to move out of the way, but something had been stopping him from doing so. There hadn't been any sort of hands offered when crossing rickety bridges or any running ahead to check for signs of trouble. In fact, Alistair continued to hang in the background, fiddling with some flower he had picked and kept his mouth shut. This was a reprieve for Morrigan, who relished in the newfound silence, but Izarre felt uneasy about it. This wasn't like Alistair at all.

"So, I guess we're going in there?" Morrigan said as she pointed out a ruin in the distance. "I can smell dog shit from a mile away. This seems as good of a place as any to hunt for the rest of those cursed wolves that keep trying to slaughter us." Izarre gave a nod as he led the group inside. Being his first ruin, he assumed that what they found in its depths was normal. There were demons from the Fade, reanimated undead bodies, and lots of random scribbles regarding some ancient civilization that supposedly housed both elves and humans.

"Why are there so many ghosts here?!" Leliana said in frustration as they had passed what had to be their third or fourth encounter.

"Looks like the Veil is torn quite a bit," answered Morrigan. "Do you know what that is Warden or does your _mage denial_ make you just another ignorant apostate?" Izarre shot Morrigan a nasty glare for such a comment, as did Alistair.

"I know what the Veil is," Izarre stated plainly as he walked causally though the ghostly images with a bit of annoyance in his step now. It didn't take long for the group to finally make their way down to the bottom of the ruin where Izarre's suspicions were confirmed, but eventually put to rest as the curse was ended. Alistair found himself impressed with the mercy Izarre had given to the humans.

"_'We all struggle with our nature'_…,"Alistair mumbled as he paced back and forth in front of the fire pit at camp. Izarre was busy setting up the inside of his own tent a few paces away, but Leliana heard Alistair's voice loud and clear.

"It's a very true statement. He's young, but there is great wisdom there," she said with a smile as she walked over. "You've been dwelling on that for a while now. Something on your mind?" Alistair looked up and smiled nervously.

"No, well…Yes, actually." He paused as he looked towards the tent where he could see Izarre's shadow still shuffling around on the inside. "So…you're female, Leliana, right?"

"I am? That's news. When did that happen?" she teased while acting surprised.

"I just wanted some advice." Alistair moved his gaze towards her. "What should I do if…if I think a woman…or…something…was special and…"

"You want to woo her?" she smiled knowingly. "Or _him_ maybe?" She asked as she looked towards the tent herself. "Here's a good tip: You shouldn't question them about their female-ness," she laughed softly. "Or lack thereof." Alistair sighed, feeling as if he already had messed that one up back at Ostagar.

"All right, yes. Good point." With a tilted head, Leliana became more serious.

"Why do you ask? Are you afraid things will not proceed naturally?"

"Why would they?" Alistair frowned. "Especially when I do things like ask women if they're female." Putting an armored hand to his face, Alistair just rubbed between his eyes, but the hand was taken down in comfort by Leliana.

"It adds to your charm, Alistair," she assured him. "You're a little…awkward. It is endearing."

"So," Alistair asked as he raised his eyebrows in confusion. "I should be awkward? Didn't you just say _not_ to do things like that?"

"Just…Be yourself. You do know how to do that, don't you?" Finished laying down his bedding, Izarre soon emerged from the tent and Alistair quickly pulled his hand away. It was then used to shoo Leliana away.

"All right, forget I asked." Leliana smiled with a nod and stepped away as Izarre walked up. He was curious to what that was all about, but thought it best not to ask. "Iz, here. Look at this. Do you know what this is?"

"Iz?" questioned Izarre at the new nickname, but looked to see that Alistair had that flower still. "Your…new weapon of choice? You've been thumbing that for a while now."

"I picked it in Lothering," Alistair smiled looking down at it while carefully petting the delicate red petals. "I remember thinking, 'How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much…despair and ugliness?' I should have left it alone, but then the darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So…," he paused as he looked towards the other Warden.

"So?" Izarre asked, trying to figure out what was going on. He crossed his arms and took a step back defensively. "What do you intend to do with it?" Alistair hesitated with his answer.

"I thought that I might…give it to you, actually." Izarre gave an even more puzzled look. "In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you." The puzzled stare turned to shock before turning to anger.

"So you think of me as…what? Some gentle flower?" It was obvious that he was offended but Alistair was quick to make it right.

"A gentle flower?" Alistair laughed. "No, I…don't know that I'd put it that way." Izarre's face softened a bit, but he still looked peeved. "I guess it's a bit silly, isn't it?" Alistair sighed trying to make amends. "I just thought…here I am doing all this complaining and you haven't exactly been having a good time yourself." Izarre's arms at least uncrossed at this. "You've had none of the good experiences of being a Grey Warden since your Joining."

"There are good experiences?" teased Izarre in a half-joking manner, but Alistair gave a nod.

"I thought…I don't know," Alistair paused for a second as he rubbed his chin while looking away. "Maybe I could say something." His eyes finally came back to stare into the confused jade orbs. "Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this…darkness." With that, Izarre finally smiled with the rose in hand at his side. He took a flirtatious step forward, holding it up to Alistair's chest.

"So," he smirked a bit while looking up into Alistair's eyes. "Are we married now?" Alistair felt his face flush as he took a confident step backwards.

"Ha! You won't land me that easily!" Izarre took a step back as well, almost as if he was ready to meet the challenge. "I guess it was, uh, just a stupid impulse, but…I don't know. Was it…the wrong one?" The flower was examined by the shorter young man for a moment before he playfully placed it to rest behind an ear. The brilliant crimson stood out amongst the white hair like a fresh blossom of blood. His face was also a bit pink as his light skin easily displayed the growing blush.

"No, it wasn't. Thank you." Alistair sighed in relief, feeling a burden lift from his shoulders and a boulder of nerves vanish from his gut.

"I'm glad you like it. Now…if we could move right on past this awkward…embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it."

"Sounds good," Izarre said as he turned to look at his freshly prepared tent.

"Bluff called! Damn…Saw right through me."

"Why…must it be a bluff?" Taking another step forward, they were nearly pressed together now.

"Well, it doesn't _have_ to be…" Looking at the tent, Alistair suddenly cleared his throat as he had been obviously considering as much. "I'll be…I'll be standing over here. Until the blushing stops…Just…Just to be safe." His posture straightened. "You know how it is." A forced laugh came from Izarre as he took a few steps back.

"Right. You get first watch then," he winked with a smirked and turned to head towards his tent.

Alone.

And gave a wave before crawling inside.

Still alone.

Once out of sight, Alistair released his held in breath so hard that he had to squat down to the ground before being able to lift his body up to stand again.


	8. Chapter 8

Outside of Redcliff, Alistair pulled Izarre over to the side away from the rest of their party. "Look, can we talk for a moment?" he asked nervously while looking towards the town. "I need to tell you something I, ah, should probably have told you earlier." Izarre crossed his arms, considering all of the many, many things that this could possibly be. He also had some serious doubts that it wasn't something he already knew about Alistair anyway.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Izarre asked as he unfolded his arms. Looking to the ground, Alistair shuffled his feet.

"I don't know. I doubt it," he shrugged as he looked up. "I never liked it, that's for sure." There was another sigh from the worried Warden before he managed to speak again. "I told you that I was raised by Arl Eamon, right?" Izarre nodded in response.

"And I was raise by Teryn and Teryn Cousland. Who cares?" he then asked. He didn't see a point to why Alistair wanted to bring this up, especially now, but Alistair smiled a bit. If anything, Alistair felt a connection with Izarre, at least when it came to their upbringing. Sort of.

"Well, I'm sure that was because you were such an adorable orphan. Me, not so much," he laughed at his own memories before shaking his head. "No, the reason he raised me was because…well…"

"Spit it out, Alistair," Izarre insisted, feeling uneasy about their private chat and about the looks they were getting from a distance by their other companions.

"Well, because…my father…," Alistair spoke softly as he lost his smile. "…was King Maric. Which made Cailan my…half-brother, I suppose." Izarre looked confused and took a step forward to close the gap between them.

"So…you're not just a bastard but a _royal_ bastard?" he said in a hushed voice.

"Ha!" Alistair laughed loud enough to make heads turn before he quieted himself down. "Yes, I guess it does. I should use that line more often."

"Think it would help?" Izarre smirked, but Alistair shook his head as he tried to get back on track.

"Iz, I would have told you but….it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan's rule and so they kept me a secret. I've never talked about it to anyone." Izarre's lips pressed together at this. Being adopted into a noble family himself, he understood all too well how the lines of succession worked. To Alistair's surprise, he gave a nod. "Look, everyone who knew either resented me for it or they coddled me…even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I didn't…," he paused as he reached out to touch Izarre's shoulder. "I didn't want you to know as long as possible. I'm sorry."

"But…," Izarre asked as he looked up. "Does Loghain know?" It was a troubling thought that Loghain tried to take both of King Maric's sons out in a single swoop.

"Why wouldn't he?" Alistair asked while sounding surprised. "He was King Maric's best friend. I don't know if that means anything though…I certainly never considered the idea that it might ever be important." To that, Izarre pulled away from Alistair's touch.

"You should consider it, Alistair. Bastard or not, you're a possible heir to the throne." Alistair frowned at this as he thought about it, but shook his head anyway.

"Let's hope not. I'm a son of a commoner, and a Grey Warden to boot. It was made very clear to me early on that there was no room for me raising any rebellions or such nonsense. I'm sure you were given the same speeches."

"I don't share a bloodline."

"As far as the rest of the world is concerned, neither do I. Besides, if there is an heir to be found, it's Arl Eamon himself…though…if he's really as sick as we've heard…" Alistair went silent in thought. "No, I don't want to think about that. I really don't."

"Alistair…"

"No, just no," he said firmly putting his hands up. "So there you have it. Now we can move on, and I'll just pretend you still think I'm some nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens." Izarre scoffed at that.

"So what does that make me?"

"That makes you…the reason I think we have a chance of setting things right…among other things."

As Alistair walked off into the sunset, Izarre found him to be a bit more heroic. He wasn't _exactly _the same cowardly Warden that he met in Ostagar. Something was beginning to change, but Izarre wasn't sure if the change was within himself or with Alistair.

Or both.

Unfortunately, the moment of reflection was abruptly interrupted when a screaming young man from town ran up on Alistair in a panic. Apparently the walking undead wasn't just something found in old forest ruins. The town had been completely overrun with them and had been killing the townsfolk night after night. Inside of the barricaded Chantry, Alistair ran into his uncle.

Sort of.

There, Bann Teagan explained how hordes of undead had been constantly attacking the town since Arl Eamon took ill and how in a few hours, they would be attacking the wrecked town yet again. How to help the town was something to consider and Izarre also knew that he needed the support of the Arl for many things now, and not just with the darkspawn. The game of political musical chairs always went better when the participants had _family _support. To Alistair's surprise, Izarre decided to help the town and actually managed to do by gathering local support and increase morale. He also made some of the best threats Alistair had ever heard. To add insult to injury and despite being scrawny and short, Izarre somehow managed to kick down a few steel-bolted doors as well. It was amazing how much work got done before dusk when the night settled in. Upon a hill, in full moonlight, undead swarmed from the castle only to get ripped apart by the Warden's party. A second wave hit the lower levels, but had the same amount of luck as the first.

When the sun finally rose, the corpses fell to the ground as if they were just mere puppets who had their freshly strings cut. Returning to the cliff to speak with Bann Teagan only made things worse. The Lady Isolde had plenty of secrets, enough to raise suspension from everyone she spoke to, and after beating back more of the undead inside the Redcliff castle, her secrets finally surfaced. The great evil she spoke of earlier was actually her own son, Connor. He was a young lad, no more than twelve, and had torn the Veil while making a contract with a demon in order to save his dying father. The Arlessa had hired an apostate to train her son in secret, who had been showing signs of magic. What she didn't know at the time was that the apostate had his own secret deal with Teryn Loghain to take the Arl out of the game.

Things were adding up as without Arl Eamon to challenge Loghain for control of the throne due to his blood relation to the former King Cailen, Loghain's victory was nearly inevitable. However, something unlikely happened. The blood mage did try to make peace, feeling guilty for his crime however, and offered to _cure_ Connor's affliction by sending another mage to the Fade to slay the demon which possessed the child, but Izarre didn't like it. It involved blood magic and a sacrifice. The very idea left a bad taste in his mouth.

Lucky for him, there was another way. The Mage Tower held both enough mages and lyrium to create the ritual in other way, one that didn't involve killing the boy's mother. Not to mention, as Alistair reminded the Warden earlier, the mages _did _owe the Grey Warden's their allegiance.


	9. Chapter 9

Alistair had found himself to be incredibly happy lately for someone who was about to fight off the Blight and who had just found out that his 'sister' was just a gold-digging wench. While in Denerim to restock on their supplies before heading over to the Mage tower, Izarre had surprised Alistair with a little gift. It wasn't something silly as a rose (because who in their right mind would give another man a flower?), but was instead something more a little more personal.

"Oh," Izarre spoke up as they had stopped in the middle in The Wonders of Thedas for a quick look around. Alistair had to look up from his hunt of golem figurines. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something glisten in the light. "I found this at Redcliff in the Arl's study."

"You off robbing people again?" Alistair teased. Izarre laughed at the little joke.

"Old habits die hard, I guess." It took Alistair a moment to realize what he was just given.

"This...this is my mother's amulet. It has to be." He held the engraved silver locket up by its chain and let the jewelry twirl in front of his eyes to be certain. "But why isn't it broken?" Confused, he clutched the necklace in his hand. "You found it in the Arl's study, right? Then he must have found it…after I…" The warden's eyes narrowed as he tried to think. "He repaired it and kept it then? I don't understand why."

"I don't think he hated you, Alistair," Izarre responded reassuringly. "Fathers can have a…way of showing they love you, even if you don't think they do." He turned away after he finished speaking as he remembered how his own adoptive father had loved him in the end.

"I guess you're right," Alistair smiled in sympathy. "Thank you." Izarre nodded as he accepted the gratitude and stepped away to go look at another display table, but he found himself being followed by Alistair. "Did you remember me mentioning it?" Alistair smirked over the idea that someone had actually paid any attention to him. He was answered by a prompt, but playful shove. Unfortunately, it caused him to lose his balance and slam into a table which then caused a crystal orb to fall and shatter upon the stone floor. Morrigan moaned in distain as Izarre face-palmed himself before pulling out his coin purse to pay for the damages. "Sorry! SORRY! "Alistair stammered embarrassingly as he attempted to pick up the fragile pieces by hand, only to have them shatter in his armored fingertips. "I'll…clean that up."

It was outside of Denerim did Alistair suddenly lose his happiness. It came as no surprise to anyone that Loghain would hire a bunch of assassins to try to kill them; it did come as a surprise to nearly everyone, _especially _Alistair, when Izarre allowed for one of them to join their little party afterward. It also didn't take Alistair too long to notice that he was no longer walking next to Izarre on their way to the Mage Tower. All he could do was miserably stay behind with the women, the dog, and the Qunari, as Izarre and Zevran walked ahead making each other laugh with inside jokes, playful fighting, and reminiscing about what it was like to grow up on the streets as a thieving urchin.

When it started to get dark, Izarre decided that it was a good time to make camp seeing as how the Mage Tower was still a day's walk away. Once settled, he wandered off to fetch some clean water from a nearby lake alone but Alistair was quick to follow when he thought no one was looking. While he had not had made any noise with his sneaking, Izarre knew he was there before he had even said anything.

"What do you want, Alistair?" Izarre asked with his back turned. He was in the lake, seemingly nude, and looked busy in search of something below the water's surface. The lake wasn't massive, but big enough to have some depth to it with a small waterfall on the opposite side. Alistair was a bit taken by the view of Izarre in the clear water with the moonlight reflecting on long, wet, white hair and glimmering pale skin. The ponytail had come down, allowing for the hair to flow in a trail behind him. He turned to face Alistair and swam closer until his feet could touch the bottom. This allowed for him to stop about waist deep in and looked curiously towards Alistair, wondering why he had been followed. Alistair opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. "Take off your armor and come in here. You're starting to smell ripe."

Finally, the words came. "Hey, I don't smell…Do I?" Alistair lifted an arm to sniff and immediately pulled away from his own scent. "Right. Give me a moment." There was a lot of clambering before the heavy plate armor finally came off and Alistair stood in just his small clothes. He had stopped to consider if he should actually take them off or not, but as he looked out at the lake and saw a flash of Izarre's bare backside as the other Warden turned to make his way back into the depths, he decided to mimic the behavior. "Ah! COLD!" Alistair yelped as he tip-toed into the water. He walked out until he couldn't touch the bottom anymore before swimming out to meet his friend.

Izarre had been busy diving down with a small dagger to dig up clams. He had a small pile of them already near the shoreline. When he came up this time, he found himself chest to chest with Alistair. "So this is what you've been doing? Fishing?" Alistair asked as he floated close. Izarre nodded and attempted to dive down again, but his arm was grabbed. "Wait, I actually came out here to ask you something." Surprised, Izarre stayed where he was and ran his fingers through his overgrown wet bangs to clear his eyes. Alistair took the chance to look directly into them as he continued to speak. "I'm uh…," Alistair paused as he couldn't help looking away again. "I've been wondering about Zervan, really. It seems like the two of you have become quite…_friendly_."

"I suppose we have," Izarre shrugged. He had taken a liking to Zevran. It was nice to have someone to talk to about certain things.

"I'm just curious…maybe it's inappropriate of me to ask, but what are you _intentions_ towards him?"

"Intentions? You mean do I plan on killing him later?" Izarre asked, not sure where this was going. "No, I gave him my word, Alistair. He's not a bad guy."

"I didn't mean that…I meant…is it serious? If...If you'll tell me...that is… Please tell me…"

"Serious about what?"

"I was under the..._impression_…that the two of you were…romantically involved?"

"_What?_" Izarre shot Alistair a nasty glare and the stammering warden began to panic.

"I would have said something sooner, but I didn't know how to put it without sounding jealous!" While nearly shouting, Alistair winced up to prepare himself for getting punched in the face. Indeed, Izarre's fist was balled up with his arm pulled back, but the last bit caused him to blush and relax.

"Jealous? Why would you…I mean…," Izarre stammered a bit himself as he bashfully tucked a wet strand of hair nervously behind his ear. "Why would you be jealous? Zervan is just someone I like to talk to…" The lack of getting hurt caused Alistair to relax as well.

"I needed to get that off my chest, so let me ask you something else." Reaching out, he caressed Izarre's cheek. "Do you have any feelings towards me?" Izarre stayed quiet but allowed the gentle petting of his face. "I know it…might sound strange, considering we haven't known each other for very long, but I've come to…care for you. A great deal." The green eyes rotated up to look at Alistair's face. Unlike the other 99% of the time, it was actually quite confidant, calm, and serious. Alistair smiled, removing his hand for a second to scratch behind his own head with a small laugh. "I think maybe it's because we've gone through so much together. Or maybe I'm imagining it. Maybe I'm fooling myself." Reaching out, he took Izarre's face with both hands and pressed their noses together. "Am I? Fooling myself? Or do you think you might ever…feel the same way about me?"

Izarre was left speechless, his lips quivering from both the chill in the water and the fluttering in his chest. His eyelids began to close themselves while his body leaned into Alistair's warmth as they kissed. He had lost all sense of time before Alistair pulled away, a smile still on his face. "So I fooled you, did I? Good to know," he tease as their lips still touched and warm breath mingled. His hands had found a comfortable place to be underwater just above Izarre's backside as he held the other boy close. "But what about Zevran? I don't like the idea of leading him on."

Regaining some of his sense, Izarre just snickered. "I do think you're leading him on," he said, but Alistair frowned as he removed one of his hands from Izarre's waist to lift up the Warden's chin.

"You know what I mean. Either you're with him…or you're with me." Izarre remained quiet but carefully pushed the hand away.

"You're the one that told me that I was involved with Zevran. No one, not even Zevran, was thinking that." Alistair sighed a bit as Izarre smiled.

"I know. I'm sorry for the accusations I just…" But before he could finish his apology, Alistair was kissed again before Izarre pulled away to swim to shore.

"We better head back," Izarre said while standing there naked and dripping wet as he gathered his clams. Alistair blushed and followed. He shivered as he climbed out of the water and tried to shake the cold water off before he felt Izarre's hand on his back.

"Let me help," Izarre insisted as he used his more refined magic to ignite their bodies with blue flames. It was the first time Alistair had been covered in fire that didn't hurt and the sight of it amazed him like no other wonder had done before. When the flames died down, he found himself perfectly dry.

"How did you…? Wow, just…wow. We were covered in fire and then…" Izarre smiled at this and nodded.

"Controlled magic doesn't seem to hurt anyone I don't want it to. Get dressed and let's head back before they send a search party."


	10. Chapter 10

In the center of Lake Calenhad stood a great tower choked to the brim full of mages. It wasn't a place where anyone in the party wanted to go to. In fact, Morrigan flat out refused and suggested someone guard the docks instead, just case another assassin decided to sneak up behind them. Izarre didn't believe a word of her ranting, but opted to only take a small group inside so they wouldn't be confused for the keep. Leliana had no qualms about visiting the mages and Alistair insisted that he not be left behind. He wasn't himself today, Izzare thought. There was a gleam to his eyes and a shroud of darkness ever since they came here. On the dock, he turned to the other Warden while trying to keep his voice low. "Are you sure you should be going in there?" The question confused Izarre for a moment.

Why shouldn't I?" Alistair looked down at him, serious and stoic.

"You're a _mage_, remember? An apostate really. You never belonged to the tower." He took a step forward to run his fingers though growing out white bangs. "What if they, I don't know, try something?" Izarre smiled a bit as he leaned into the caress once it had been made clear as to what had been bothering Alistair this entire time.

"I'm a warden now. The Chantry can't condemn me anymore," he said but paused as he looked to former would-be Templar. "Can they?" The taller man shrugged, unsure of them himself, and returned his gaze across the lake. The rickety small boat trip carried the three friends to the entrance where a pair of Templar guards allowed them to pass. Up and around a corridor stood the Knight-Commander, visibly shaken and pale. Abominations and blood mages had taken control.

The requested task to ensure an alliance between Wardens and Mages was not simple. If the First Enchanter lived, the Templars would postpone the Right of Annulment and not kill every remaining mage in the building in fear of corruption. The words struck Izarre deeply, even more so when Alistair agreed. "The Templars know what they are doing," he tried to explain the reasoning, but it only caused more frustration. Past the sealed doors were a small group of mages, among them was an elderly woman by the name of Wynne. She spoke on behalf of her people, those who were as much the victims here as much as the Templars themselves. There were even quite a few children, forcing Alistair to reconsider his stance. Yes, he had been trained to be vigilant when it came to magic, but he had also taken a mage close to his heart; A mage who was fortunate enough not to have been in the tower when it fell to demons.

Izarre had already made up his mind to help, but not because he was a mage himself. Alistair had rubbed off on him as well and he began to see how it was wrong to stand idle while those around who could not defend themselves were slaughtered needlessly. "I'm coming with you," Alistair announced as he walked into Izarre's and Wynne's discussion. "I won't stand here to watch these kids be killed for something they didn't do."

"I'm coming as well. Demons are foul creatures cast away from the Maker's embrace. They will not remain in control of this place," Leliana said with some vigor. As Alistair stood beside his comrades, his eyes looked down as he gave a confidant smile. He was doing the right thing and it felt good to know that. When the barrier dissipated, to say that all hell broke loose would be an understatement. Hordes of demons attacked the group but quickly fell to Izarre's rage. They were attracted to his magic, taunting him whenever they could. Alistair had never been in the tower before and took a moment to realize how this place could feel like a prison. Ravaged bodies littered the ground, their insides torn apart by claws, teeth, and blades. He saw monstrous alters created from human remains, demons violating enthralled bodies of both men and women, and the burned carcasses of children freshly taken from their homes only to die here. He wanted to look away, but forced himself to stare at every lost soul. It wasn't about the dangers of mages anymore. This was a massacre of innocent people that could have been prevented. He had to save who he could.

As they ascended through the wreckage, they came upon a curious room where a demon laid in wait. In an instant, everything got lost in a fog. Izarre awoke to a strange sight. He could see lines, as if the world around him had been patchworked together from scraps of cloth. There was also Duncan, he thought, but his face was distorted and wrong. The voice Duncan spoke with was the voice he remembered, but it would echo in harsh tones and whispers. It didn't take the young mage that long to figure out it was really a demon. It tried to argue, but was quickly slain as if Izarre were swatting a fly. He did the same to Alistair's captors as well. Leliana was next and was followed by Wynne before they met the master of this realm. It was ugly, for sure, dressed in tight bondage to cover its mangled face and burnt skin, but for all its boasting, it was overwhelmed fairly easily.

The final victory in the tower came as the group killed the blood mage responsible and freed the First Enchanter. The Wardens successfully gained the mages as allies as well as a way to ensure Conner's safety back in Redcliff. With mages and lyrium in tow, the group returned to the castle and conducted the ritual. A mage was needed to go through the Fade and Izarre reluctantly volunteered. As his soul entered the realm, his body crumpled to the floor to be caught by Alistair. All the man could do was wait. Hours passed before the body being held so gently and protectively in Alistair's arms stirred once again, but to Izarre himself, it only felt like a few minutes. The demon was dead and Conner had finally come to with no memory of his transgressions. A grateful Arlessa offered the heroes room and board for the night after they had promised to search for the Urn of Sacred Ashes the next day.

Izarre was exhausted from back to back trips to the Fade. He was grateful for the time he got to spend alone soaking in a steel tub of near boiling water and the chance to change into something other than his mud-caked armor. The clothes provided by the Arlessa came with giggling handmaids to dress him as he was accustom to. The long shirt provided was deep blue, made of the finest silks. The pants were polished black leather that were pulled to be half undone once the girls were disappointingly led out of the bedroom. Alistair saw the line of them leaving as he walked on his down the hallway and let himself inside. He had changed as well, but was provided with simple cotton and wool garments after his rough body scrub with a rag and a bucket of warm water. It seemed that even now, Isolde still did not favor him in the slightest.

On the fluffy bed, Izarre sat there removing the flowers and decorative braids put in his hair by the maids. He was used to entertaining this way through his mother's conditioning. As Alistiar shut the door behind himself, he couldn't help but chuckle as he moved to sit down next to the other warden. "Here, let me help," he offered as he carefully plucked a lily out before undoing the final braid. "There. Do you always get done up like that by girls?" he teased afterward while nudging his friend with his shoulder. The pampered young man let out a sigh to confirm Alistair's suspicions.

"Pretty much." The conversation quickly went stale as Izarre attempted to lock eyes. They had kissed once before, but not again since. There was tension here full of expectations, want, and desire. Reaching out, Alistair placed a warm hand against his pale cheek.

"I…actually came here to talk about what happened with Conner." Izarre looked surprised, but nodded as he pulled away to stand.

"You were there. You saw what happened." Alistair stood as well but remained close.

"Yes, I know. I just wanted to thank you. You went out of your way to save the Arl's family and you did it, even though it would have been easier not to." With a small shrug, Izarre bashfully turned away. He felt uneasy being praised, but by someone he really liked, more so. "There's been so much death and destruction, it…well," Alistair paused as he sighed. "It makes me feel good that at least we were able to save something, no matter how small. I owed the Arl that much."

"If we stop the Blight, we'll save much more," Izarre said firmly as he leaned against a far wall, still hiding his face.

"You're right…but…"

"But?"

"Hopefully by that time, there's still enough of Ferelden left to save."

"There will be, Alistair. Don't worry." As he finally turned, Izarre found himself being pinned.

"Good," Alistair whispered with his hands pressed against the wall now. His muscled arms had trapped the object of his affection. "Now that the warm, fuzzy part of the day is over with, we can get back to the ritual dismemberments…Oh, wait. It's not Tuesday, is it?"

"...Is that all you wanted?" Feeling flustered, Alistair blushed a bit as he leaned in to affectionately touch foreheads.

"…If I say no, will you be angry?

"I'd be angry if you said yes," smirked the shorter one as he put his hands to Alistair's cheeks. He had to pull the face down to get a decent kiss in. It was just as warm as their first time but their lips trembled a bit less. Still, it was a gentle thing that ended all too soon.

"I should…go," Alistair reluctantly said as he pulled away but his arm was caught before he got too far.

"You should stay."

"You mean you want me to join you? In your room?" There was an uneasy laugh attached to the end of Alistair's question. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be nervous," he quickly apologized as he took the thin hands into his own. "I must sound like a fool."

"A bit," Izarre smiled up at him but wasn't at all turned off by Alistair's flustered behavior. It was endearing.

"It's just…you know I've never done anything like this. With…anyone. I was quite sheltered after all." Still, he was given an understanding nod as his itchy wool shirt was held onto with wanting tugs. "I care for you so much. Whenever I think of this, I feel like a bumbling idiot! I'm just all…hands!" Pulling the hands off the rim of his shirt up to his chest, he placed them there so Izarre could feel how fast his heart was beating. "Look how crazy I am about you, Iz. I wish I could be better at this…I want this to be right." Izarre was surprised at the quick thumping underneath his fingertips.

"I think…this is about as right as it gets."

"In my uncle's house, freshly cleaned up from being soaked in demon's blood with the dawnspawn on our heels, death awaiting us at every turn? Sure, why not? Hot."

"At least the bed is comfortable?"

"Well," Alistair nearly purred as he leaned in to rub noses. "I'm willing to give it a shot if you are." The grabbed kiss he was suddenly pulled into was his answer.


	11. Chapter 11 (NSFW)

Alistair grunted as he bit into Izarre's nude shoulder. Their tops had been removed in a hurry and tossed on the floor somewhere in a corner after he accidently ripped the silk while pulling at his lover's collar to kiss the pale neck underneath it. He was also more than happy to be rid of the itchy cheap wool tunic he had been wearing and was nearly free of the skin-tight pants as soon as the eager young man below him finished ripping away the leather strings they had been tied with. Stealing another kiss, he bit and tugged at Izarre's bottom lip, locking eyes with a devious grin as his erection broke free from its bonds. The way it was grabbed afterward made his entire body stiffen from the touch.

The hand that grabbed his manhood wasn't shy about it in the least bit. It stroked and rubbed tenderly, its thumb paying special attention to the exposed tip. With his hand braced against the wall in front of him, all Alistair could do was breathe heavily in between kisses and nuzzles at Izarre's mercy. His eyes closed tightly until his bottom lip was bit for attention. Raising an eyebrow, Alistair stared nearly in shock as he watched Izarre slip down and… "_Maker have mercy."_

The first gentle kiss to the throbbing knob sent shivers down his spine. The second kiss was followed by a teasing lick with a few strokes up and down the shaft. The third kiss had forced Alistair to ball his fingers into fists and bang on the wall while biting his lips so he wouldn't cry out too loudly as his sex was taken into an eager mouth and throat. Looking down, he watched the endless white hair move back and forth with the occasional glance of green eyes looking up to him submissively. The hips that were being grabbed began to thrusts on their own as his bare, exposed rear-end tightened its muscles. He began to pant as if he had just run cross-country from a horde of darkspawn as he moved one of his clenched fists down to run its fingers through the silky strands below.

Izarre leaned into the touch and moved to place the shaky hand against his cheek. Its thumb caressed his face gently as he continued to move back and forth. He could feel the stiffness increasing against his tongue and felt the growth begin to press harder against his lips as Alistair was near his peak. The fingers moved to caress over one of his round ears, but soon grabbed the hair on the back of his head and forced him to move faster. Alistair's grunts and moans grew more and more demanding as his hips pushed forward one last time before Izarre's mouth was filled with warm, white juices. It filled the back of his throat and tingled against his tongue. It was hard to even swallow until the standing warden pulled away enough so that the spent tip twitched against his lips instead of inside of them.

He stood to be face-to-face with a visibly worn out Alistair, who stood smiling proudly. As Izarre walked away to pour himself a glass of wine, his arm was grabbed and promptly pulled back. "Where do you think you're going?" Alistair asked but before he could be answered, he had pinned his lover back against the wall. "I'm not done ravaging you yet." Startled, Izarre was kissed again, but this this had his mouth thoroughly invaded by Alistair's probing tongue. He was soon lifted up and carried over to the bed. After being dropped down, he was crawled on top of and nuzzled lovingly against the side of his face.

There were more gentle bites and nibbles as Alistair made his way down to tug off the black leather pants. He had seen Izarre's naked body before, but it wasn't as nearly as arousing back then. Pulling off the last bit of clothing between them, he was a bit surprised by the pinkish erection twitching against Izarre's stomach. The tip was already wet from anticipation and it looked as if the little rosy hole further down was twitching just as eager. A curious poke made him notice that it was dry with the exception of a bit of sweat and caused Izarre to look uncomfortable. "Are you alright?" Alistair asked him out of concern.

"I'm fine," he answered as he realized that his partner didn't know anything about sex really, especially this kind. "Can you…turn around for a bit?"

"Turn around?" Alistair looked confused, but did as he was told. He took directions rather well after all. Sitting on his knees, he turned his back to give the man some privacy. Izarre used his time to reach over onto the nightstand and dig into his pack. He pulled out a small tin container and pulled the top off. Alistair heard the shuffling behind him, but kept his word of looking away until the scent of warm peaches tickles his nostrils. He took in a big whiff and turned away to see what it was. "Is someone making a pie?" he asked but froze as he saw Izarre with his legs lifted just until to finger his own opening. The smell had come from the opened container which was a freshly crafted canister of warming balm made of several herbs melted together by fire crystal fragments into a lubricating solution.

"Alistair!" Izarre exclaimed embarrassingly on the bed but found his legs being held up before he could put them back down. His opening twitched vividly from being fondled and gapped just a bit from being fingered so recently.

"Well, I could have done _that_," Alistair smirked as he kept a grip on the skinny ankles in front of him with just one hand. The other reached to smear his fingers in the canned substance and moved in to finish what Izarre had started. With his hold being poked at once again, Izarre flinched hard but it wasn't out of discomfort. The thick fingers slid easily inside and as his rim squeezed around them. Slowly, they moved back and forth as the man being penetrated wiggled while grabbing the sheets. The pale-pink erection twitched uncontrollably at this. After Alistair thought that the other warden had enough of being teased, he pulled his hands away only to crawl on top. "Better?"

"Much," Izarre smiled breathlessly as he released the tight hold he had on the bedding. His thin arms draped around broad shoulders instead. Leaning up, he bit at Alistair's pouty bottom lip again, giving it a domineering tug, as he scratched at the man's back. "You can move now." Alistair didn't have to be told twice and put his hips to work. The heat between them was delirious and intense. It had been a long time since Izarre had a lover while this was a first time for Alistair. They moaned together, thrusting and pushing their bodies in unison. Izarre was moved to his side as he was taken from behind. It was easier to push back and forth this way, even though Alistair was getting his thigh clawed up by elegant fingertips. In retaliation, Alistair scratched back and made sure to leave red lines down the soft skin of leg in front of him while his other hand clenched Izarre's throat enough to hold it in place while nipping at the back of the porcelain neck.

"I'm…again," Alistair warned as he continued to thrust inside one last time as his seed spilled out yet again. This time it coaxed Izarre's inner depths to the point where he could feel it in his stomach. Alistair shut his eyes tightly upon his release, burying his moist forehead in the back of the soft, white hair until his body stopped shaking. After he unclenched his fingers, both from kneading his lover's side and from around the neck he had grabbed, he finally came out of his daze. Izarre felt those hands move to squeeze his smaller frame affectionately. "You know, according to all the sisters at the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now."

"It could still happen," Izarre chuckled breathlessly, obviously a bit worn out from all the work and from being short of breath a bit from Alistair nearly choking him.

"Sure, but if get hit by the lightning afterwards, it hardly seems like an effective deterrent," Alistair whispered into Izarre's ear as he rubbed the shell of it with his nose. "You do realize that the rest of our little party here is going to talk, right? They…tend to do that."

"You're the worse of them all."

"Ha! I am, aren't I?"

"First smart comment and I feed them to the darkspawn," Izarre smiled as he rolled just enough to turn his face to Alistair. "Including you."

"See," Alistair smiled despite just being threatened. "This is why I love you." He paused to look more serious. "I do, you know? Love you, I mean. I really do." The pale cheeks blushed brightly as the green eyes looked away.

"Oh…Okay."

"That…wasn't really the answer I was looking for...," the larger man cooed but the new shade of red of the bashful warden's face told him everything he needed to know. "But…what now? Where do we go from here?"

"To sleep?"

"You're so practical. You make me proud," he continued to tease while actually getting quite comfortable where he was. He had yet to really pull out and was stark-naked with his lover being held close. Izarre hadn't really made an attempt to move either.

"There's still a horde of darkspawn to deal with."

With his eyes closed, Alistair sighed. "All right, I get the hint. We have a lot to do, right? We still have the dwarves to contend with, Arl Howe…and Loghain. Ugh. I had almost forgotten. Does sex always make everything seem…I don't know…better?"

"If you do it right," Izarre teased right back as he finally pulled away. Alistair hissed in pain as the sudden removal of his manhood from the happiest place it had ever been as his companion stood up to clean off. His eyes opened to watch the man find a rag to wipe his body off with but turned away to the ceiling as he was glared at for staring. "Well, we do have a lot to do…" After Izarre finished cleaning off, Alistair found himself being straddled. "Hello…? What do you think you're doing up there?" he grinned, knowing full well why he was being mounted.

"Making sure you really do get struck by lightning."

"If what we did just a moment ago didn't do the trick, what makes you think it'll happen now?"

"That was just a warm-up."

"Fair enough," Alistair laughed as he hands took a hold of Izarre's hips. "Challenge accepted." It was going to be a long night for the pair, but they deserved a bit of restlessness.


	12. Chapter 12

Trying to figure out where a little secluded mountain town was that held the Urn of Sacred Ashes was not an easy task and Izarre never claimed to be a navigator. It was hardly a surprise to anyone that they got lost a few times. The first time seemed like a blessing. They stumbled across one of King Cailan's guards as he was executed by Loghain's men. The small miracle came as they retrieved some information, prompting Alistair to ask for a return trip to Ostagar later. The second time getting lost, Izarre swore that this particular town was the right one before having to save a little girl from a possessed cat. At least they manage to get a smart-mouthed golem out of the deal. It was another welcome addition to their ever-growing family.

Cutting through the fields helped them see what the war Loghain has started was truly like. He was forcing other noble families to give up their rightful lands by volunteering them over or be forced into doing so much like how Highever was taken. Every solider Loghain commanded had the same face to Izarre as those who killed his family. He was starting to become unhinged, noticed most of all by his concerned lover. Alistair began to see the desperation and recklessness beginning to manifest, but he couldn't blame the other warden for feeling that way.

Finally, Haven was found. It had such a pretty name for how gloomy-looking of a village it was. _The alters covered in human blood didn't help much either_. After coming across a few bodies of Redcliff soldiers, the villagers exposed themselves to be part of a dragon-worshiping cult. Brother Genitivi was freed from his bonds but too injured to proceed to the urn. Up the mountain path, beyond a hidden door, was a temple built around Andraste's final resting place. Leliana was overwhelmed by this while Morrigan only concerned herself with the sheer amount of dragonlings and drakes in the area.

Despite the opposition, Izarre pushed through to meet with a man calling himself Father Kolgrim. It was a curious thing, a male _father_ based on the Cult of Andraste who was also stupid enough to believe that the Bride of the Maker had come back as a dragon. It wasn't a particularly powerful one either, easily bested by the warden's group as they emerged from the other side. The actual temple they were looking for was far deeper into the mountain, hidden behind jagged cliffs and snow. Inside was a spirit of sorts; a powerful Guardian who claimed to be one of Andreste's original disciples. His duty was to protect the Urn of Sacred Ashes until the fall of Tevinter. While it would have been easier to just fight the supernatural being, the apparition wanted to talk instead.

"Do you think you failed your parents?" he asked Izarre, but the young man refused to answer so he moved on. "You could have shielded him from the killing blow," he said to Alistair about Duncan. "You wonder, don't you, if you should have died and not him?" Leliana was next. "You say the Maker speaks to you when we all know that the Maker has left. He only spoke to Andraste. Do you believer yourself Her equal?" The woman was shocked being asked such a thing and stammered in her response. Morrigan refused to even listen to her question entirely before shooing the ghost away. Everyone got a turn, all being asked about their deepest regrets and most private secrets.

Beyond the first set of questions were other spirits who offered riddles instead, all relating to both life in general and the life of Andraste. Each companion seemed to know the answer that was most relevant to their own personality. Alistair realized his inner jealously while Izarre was quick to acknowledge wanting revenge. The second trial had been passed, so they thought, but as the group moved behind the large room, they were stopped by the visage of a noble man. Izarre's blood turned cold as his heart clutched tightly inside of his chest. "…Father?" The spirit smiled in acknowledgement, but there was sadness there.

"My dearest child," Bryce Cousland spoke. "You know that I am gone. All your prayers and wishes will not bring me back." Izarre turned away, his lips pressed tightly together. "I see the pain and anger you carry." An ethereal hand came to brush his bangs away and turn his chin up. "I know you fear to give it voice, but rest assured, my child, the Maker know your heart." Wispy fingers wiped away a tear from one of the green eyes as Bryce smiled. "Now go, carry with you my love and my forgiveness, pup." As Izarre looked down again, the spirit vanished from existence. He stood there in silence as Alistair put a hand to his shoulder, but jumped away at the touch.

"We need to go," he said and began to walk forward. There was plenty left to do before they could reach the urn. Alistair clenched his fist at being rejected but kept quiet for now. He knew that there was no point of dragging this out. Beyond the ghosts was a phantom bridge that relied on the trust of friends to cross it. After much bickering, near death falls, and swearing, they finally made it across in one piece. The final trial had something to with fire and placing your faith in the Maker. Leliana made a quick translation of the riddle. "Basically," she said with a giggle. "Get naked and step through the flames." While she showed no shame with her own undressing, she found herself having to coax Alistair out of his armor after promising not to look. Izarre was less timid, though obviously uncomforting. Closing their eyes, they crossed the flames and reopened their lids to find themselves completely dressed and out of danger.

Within their reach was the urn of Andraste. Everyone fell silent as Izarre took a pinch of the ashes into a small cloth pouch. The way back to Redcliff was easier without an angry cult or dragons chasing them. Isolde immediately complained that only a tiny bit of ash was brought back, but it was more than enough to wake the Arl out of his coma. In his chambers, Teagan, Alistair, and Izarre briefed him on current events. Jowan was given to the Circle as a sign of mercy pushed by his fellow mage, but there was still the matter of what to do with Loghain and the throne of Ferelden. "Teagan and I have a claim through marriage, but we would seem opportunists," Eamon claimed. "No better than Loghain…but Alistair." The man in question felt his hair stand on end at the mention of his name. "Alistair's claim is by blood."

"And what about me?" the royal bastard protested. "Does anyone care what I want?"

"You have a responsibility, Alistair! Without you, Loghain wins. Is that what you want?" Eamon rebutted.

"I…but I," Alistair could only stammer and sigh. "No, my lord."

"And we would like your blessing." Izarre had to be nudged by his put-upon lover before he even realized the Arl was speaking to him.

"What? My blessing? Why?"

"I am a credible enough figure in this nation to call the Landsmeet, but I hold no illusions that I could face Loghain without you," the noble man said with his eyes narrowing. "Surely, _you_ see that." The young warden narrowed his eyes as well, questioning whether or not he was actually needed or was being used. Either way, he also didn't stand a chance unless Eamon supported their cause.

"Then…I say we proceed with your plan."

"That settles it then. It will take some time to recall my forces and organize our allies. I would prefer to wait until that is done before calling the Landsmeet," Eamon nodded as he paced back and forth in thought. "In the meantime, I suggest you rest then pursue the remainder of the Grey Warden treaties. We will need all the allies we can get if we are to defeat the darkspawn horde. You had rooms last time you were here, yes?" The party nodded. "Return to those and I'll have you attended to…but Alistair, I would like to see you alone for a moment." The taller man turned to Izarre with a worried look.

"Right…I'll be with you in soon, love," he smiled and stole a quick kiss. The young man nodded but glared in Eamon's direction before turning to leave. Alistair watched him go and let out a held-in breath as the guard closed the heavy double doors behind. Turning to the Arl, he stood his ground at the steps to the elevated platform in front of him. Eamon watched the kiss goodbye and immediately shook his head in disapproval.

"So, it's as I feared then," he said as he came from his stage. "You and that boy are close. Too close."

"I frankly don't see how that's any of your business…I mean, no offense my lord, but…"

"You're to be king, Alistair. A king cannot…"

"Cannot what? Fall in love? The only thing I noticed kings can't seem to do is be discrete about their affairs. Good thing I don't plan on having any of those…"

"You overstep." Alistair sighed again, shaking his head.

"Look, I don't _want_ to be king…but I have to weigh my options. I'm _willing_ to do that, at least. We still have to secure the Dwarven treaty and call the Landsmeet before anything else can happen. How about we do what we have to first before you start telling me about who I can and cannot be with?" Eamon was surprised at Alistair's tone towards him, but understood that this argument would go nowhere so long as they had more pressing matters to attend to.

"Fair enough. Have a good rest and Maker be with you." Alistair bowed slightly before he turned to walk away. The guards let him out and he headed down to meet Izarre in their room. A part of him felt pretty good about giving the Arl a piece of his mind but his stride soon flattered as he realized that he just _gave the Arl a piece of his mind._

"Ah…balls," he said to himself as he opened the door. "Hey Izzy, I'm sorry about…that. Izzy? Are you alright?" The room had been trashed. The furniture had been flipped, clothes tossed about, and the Cousland family sword had been stabbed into the mattress, surrounded by white feathers. In a corner sat the defeated-looking warden with his white hair covering his face like a veil. "Izzy? Izzy, are you okay?" Alistair moved to kneel down to brush it aside only to see the pale face he loved so much now streaked with tears and red from crying.


	13. Chapter 13

Alistair panicked as he took off the armored gloves to dry his loved one's face. "Who did this to you?" he asked while trying to keep his rage in check, but the look Izarre gave him before jerking away was rather accusatory. "Did I…do something?" Again, there was no answer as watched the young man stand to quickly wipe away the remaining tears. He stood as well, frowning as he had to keep guessing at the problem. "It's about me being king, isn't it? Well, if it makes you that upset then I won't do it." It seemed like the right thing to say, but he became unhinged once again as he was scoffed at.

"I'm not worried about you being king," Izarre said flatly as he pushed his hair from his eyes. "Who said anything about that?"

"Well, _I'm _worried about being king," Alistair grumbled as he crossed his arms. "But if you're not then why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying," was the lie told.

"Uh huh," the nonbeliever said. "And I'm the Viscount of Kirkwall." Izarre sniffled loudly at the bad joke. "So, are you going to tell me what's going on or should I just start cleaning up feathers?" Letting out an exhausted sigh, the smaller warden finally relaxed as he flopped on top of the floor mattress. It caused the feathers in questions to flutter every which way. Even more so after he yanked the sword out and tilted it to look at his family crest.

"I saw my father back there, you know. It was just a flicker. I know it wasn't really him, but…"

"Oh," Alistair frowned as he remembered. He moved to sit down next to his lover, kicking up a few bits of fluff in the process. "I had almost forgotten about that…Is that what…?"

"He said he forgave me, but _the Maker knows _what I'm thinking even if I don't talk about it."

"What _are_ you thinking, Izzy?" Alistair's voice remained calm and collected as he let go of his own problems for the moment.

"That I want to drive this sword into Arl Howe's skull. That I want to make Loghain feel what everyone else did when he betrayed them at the end. That…_sting_. I don't want to just kill them, Alistair. I want to _hurt_ them." It was a brutally honest confession, something the other warden understood very well. To it, he nodded as he looked down and took Izarre's free hand with his own.

"We'll get them both, I promise you."

"It's eating me alive. This…_sickness_. I never felt like this before." The green eyes turned upward. "Not just vengeance. I…I can't control myself when it comes to you either."

"You…want to stab me with that sword, do you?" teased the future king and Izarre shook his head with a smile.

"I'm sure I'll get to _stab_ you one day Alistair, but I'm also pretty sure that I'll have to get you very, _very _drunk first. It shouldn't be too difficult though…"

"Well, that's good," Alistair laughed as he gave the hand a squeeze. "Wait? What?" Izarre shrugged coyly with a smirk. "Right…Well, I can't control myself around you either. I also may have… said some things to Arl Eamon that I shouldn't have, in hindsight, but I meant every word so…"

"What did you say?"

"Oh…something about how I'm madly in love with you and that I really have no idea what being king will mean for us. Not quite sure what I said, to be honest. Was sort of in a _frenzy_."

"You don't know what will happen to us when you're king? What's that supposed to mean?" The statement had peeked Izarre's interest.

"Well…this isn't really the time for this conversation. Let's…just talk about this later. All I want to know right now is if you're okay?" While the younger warden wasn't exactly happy with that answer, he nodded just the same as he put the sword down on the floor. "Good. So, we can either get this armor off and get a few hours of much needed sleep before trying to charm the pants off of dwarves tomorrow…or…"

"Do you really want to see a dwarf with no pants on?" Alistair laughed and shuddered at the thought.

"Ew, not really no...but I wouldn't mind seeing_ you_ without any on…if possible," he grinned as he leaned over to nip at the plump pair of lips in front of him. "If you're feeling up to it?" Despite the seemingly bad timing to be getting hit on, Izarre had been cheered up by the cheesy jokes and encouragement. It was something Alistair did without even trying.

"You may get feathers stuck in places."

"A risk I'm willing to take!"

Before heading to the mountains the next morning, a few things needed to be taken care of first. Alistair insisted on returning to Ostagar, now overrun by darkspawn. The snow-covered battlefield, littered with the bodies of fallen soldiers and wardens alike, was a sight to behold. The monsters had defiled what they could, including Duncan's original camp site. Alistair felt his stomach churn as he searched the remains for anything his former commander may have left behind. In the corner of his eye, something glinted in the sunlight to catch his attention. Squatting down, he reached out to tip over a silver cup. "What is that?" Izarre asked as he noticed the shimmer as well.

"It's the Joining Chalice," answered the saddened man as he held it up. Darkspawn blood still encrusted the rim and Izarre shivered in remembrance. He was also surprised when it was stowed away in their pack. "We should keep looking around." Despite the Alistair's obvious depression, he still remained extremely vigilant against the attacking hordes. It was if a switch had been flipped inside of him. "They're leading us somewhere. Nowhere good, I take it." He froze as he looked up to see a crucified body. "_Make_r." On the edge of a bridge they were crossing was King Cailan's body, stripped bare, violated, and ravaged. Izarre frowned at the sight as he stood there taking in the fact that his new romantic interest and the former king did, in fact, look an awful lot alike and for the flip of a coin, their places could have easily been reversed. Alistair stood staring as well, though his expression very different. He too thought on what could have been had their places were switched. Would he be up there as Cailan was now? Would Cailan have made a better warden with the ability to save Duncan? Would Izarre be standing here in Cailan's arms staring up at his body instead?

"Alistair, are you alright?" Wynne asked from behind.

"Ugh," he answered as his face cringed up. "They left him here to rot. We need to do something." Izarre nodded in agreement though kept his eyes up at the maimed mounted body.

"He was a good man," Alistair sighed as he looked down. "Who hoped too much and died too young. He deserves what little honor we can afford to grant him. Climb up on my shoulders, Izzy. Let's see if we can bring him down, alright?" They managed to pull the mangled man off the rusty spikes as Wynne and the others gathered scraps of wood for a makeshift pyre.

"Help me light the fire, young one," she said to the young mage as she positioned him to hold out his hand. Their fingers ignited and a small blaze lit the pile to burn the corpse to ash. It was her way of tutoring the warden apostate without saying so out loud. Together, everyone took a step back and stood as a group to watch King Maric's heir be put to rest.

"That's going to attract the darkspawn," Alistair said as he pulled out his sword. "But let them come." His prediction was correct as the hordes soon started to gather to the east, but pulled back into the Tower of Ishal. "Feel like going hunting, love?"

"Always," Izarre smiled as he removed his sword and dagger from his back.

"Wynne? Feeling up for a bit of sport?" The woman giggled at Alistair's question.

"I think I can manage," she replied with a wink.

"Right, off we go then." Running towards the tower again felt like deja-vu, but this time, Alistair wasn't busy complaining about how he got signal duty. Instead, he mowed down the defilers without hesitation. He even looked as if he was enjoying it. Inside the tower, the massive hole used for when the darkspawn tunneled their way into the fortress in the first place was still exposed and there were _a lot _of spiders down there, but it did lead to the main battlefield just outside the fortress's walls. And there it was; the remains of the giant ogre that had taken the lives of both Duncan and King Cailan.

Seeing both of their swords sticking out of the belly of the beast was disheartening. It was almost if they had been left there on purpose as a reminder of their failure to stop the darkspawn. Alistair could recognize who they belonged to immediately. "Wait here," he said as he walked up to the massive corpse. Kneeling down, he reached out to take Duncan's sword by the hilt but as he did, a shock ran through his body. A vision flashed before his eyes. It was that of Duncan's final moments as he helplessly watched Cailan's untimely death right before his eyes and ended with the man's own defeat. Reeling back, Alistair held his head as Izarre and Wynne ran up to join him.

"Alistair? Alistair? Are you alright?" His name being called freed him from the trance.

"I…I think so," he stammered but watched in horror as the ogre began to move. "Watch out!" he yelled as he pushed his love into the snow. The first thing it did was an attempt to grab the smaller warden from behind, but Alistair had pushed him out of the way. It swatted Alistair a few meters across the field where he was dog-piled by hidden genlocks. "IZARRE!" The white-haired man stood to face the ogre alone as it stomped over. He dodged another attack and managed to take a swipe at one of its legs, but was shot in the back by an arrow into his shoulder. Wynne was quick to cast a barricading wall of flames to make short work of the archers in the distance as Alistair pummeled and sliced through the last of the genlocks.

Once freed, he immediately began to run towards his friends. Izarre had his weapons knocked away and was desperately trying to pry open the massive hand that had wrapped itself around his body. He was pulled up to the ogre's face, his hair sniffed before his face was licked. Pushing the massive mouth and razor sharp teeth away, he struggled to manifest something. _Anything._ What good was being a mage if not for the ability to cast magic when you no longer had a decent weapon? A quick bolt of lightning came out to zap the ogre's nose, but that only seemed to piss it off even more. The engorged fingers squeezed him again and forced out a painful scream from its victim as the young man hacked up blood before starting to go limp.

Alistair ran over, dropping his shield in the snow to grab his sword with both hands and impaled the blade through the monster's knee. The grip loosened as the beast collapsed from its wounded leg. Gathering the last of his strength, Izarre put his hands against the meaty prison around his body and began to freeze the entire gigantic hand. Once it turned to ice, he banged against the ogre's fingers with his fists until the entire thing completely shattered apart. This only left a bloody frozen stump on the ogre's arm as he fell to the ground. Removing his sword from the fresh wound, Alistair took the opportunity to jump onto the monster's back and crawled up to its head.

"This is for Duncan!" he yelled as he stabbed through the horned skull. "And Cailan!" He shoved his sword inside a second time before lining up the blade against front of the monstrosity's neck. Below, he locked eyes with his wounded lover as he pulled his arm swiftly to the side, slitting the throat and spraying a shower of blood over Izarre's body. As the monster screamed and collapsed, Alistair rolled off into the snow and hurried to the other warden's side. "It's alright, love. Wynne will fix you right up." It hurt to smile and laugh, but the younger warden did so anyway. He wanted to say something, but was unable to without coughing or holding his broken ribs. So, he relied on grabbing the back of Alistair's head to pull him down for a kiss to get the message across instead.

In the distance, Wynne had the necromancer suspended in a Crushing Prison. As she tightened her fist, the spell pulverized it without mercy. Izarre was covered in crimson, being cradled gently in Alistair's arms as she walked over. "Alright you two. Knock it off," she teased as she came over to cast several healing spells. "We should get out of here before more darkspawn arrive. Gather him up and let's head out." Alistair nodded but stopped to look over at the ogre he had killed.

"Just a moment," he said as he picked up his own sword. He moved to retrieve his dropped shield and Izarre's family heirloom as well, but also did something unexpected. Picking up Izarre's secondary dagger, he stabbed it, along with his own blade, into the beast's chest and removed Duncan's and Cailan's swords. He starred at both for a second in deep though, but ended up putting Duncan's sword into his own empty holster while putting Cailan's on his back. Afterward, he secured Izarre's blade where it belonged before lifting him up with careful arms. "Ready when you are."

Wynne had watched the scene with sentiment quietly. She nodded to Alistair and began to lead them out of the fortress. Once again, the two wardens and the elderly mage said goodbye to Ostager, but this time, they left with a little bit more hope.


	14. Chapter 14

A campsite was made just outside of the snowy fortress due to Izarre's injuries. Despite all of the magic used in an attempt to heal the wounds, Alistair still insisted on waiting for a full recovery. The younger warden was too tired to argue against the idea and relived himself of command. It wasn't as if he had asked to be in charge in the first place and found it surprisingly comforting to see Alistair step up when a leader was needed. If the Dalish, Mage, or Redcliff representatives had any questions, he would give a prompt answer. He even made schedules for guard duty, gathering supplies, and scouting. When not on watch himself, he would return to Izarre's tent to curl up against his lover and slip into a deep sleep.

On the third day, he awoke alone sometime in the early morning just after dawn. The cloth bandages that were used to hold broken ribs in place had been left behind in a small, bloody pile off to the side. Crawling out, the half-asleep leader yawned and squinted at the rising sun as he saw nothing but glints of shining light to the melody of clanging metal. His brown eyes focused just enough to make out what appeared to be Zevran and Izarre sparring around the dormant fire pit.

"Oh ho, I see now see why you were bested by that ogre! You're getting slow, my friend!" The assassin mocked his frustrated opponent as he deflected nearly every hit Izarre attempted to land with simple dagger twirls. The warden growled at every failed lunge and attempted swipe made by Duncan's sword as Zevran easily danced around them. The stab to his back was barely parried by his family's sword, but the knives were flicked around to cut off a small piece of loose long white hair from the tip of his ponytail. "And my trophy!" It was picked up after the duel was over by the brown-skinned Ativan who gave it a playful sniff. Izarre just grumbled as he stabbed the ground with both of his weapons. "Something tells me you know what's wrong with you. You are holding back and…"

"Izzy," Alistair interrupted as he walked up. He was turned to be looked at by both men, but while he smiled to his mate, the other got a disapproving glare.

"We can schedule a rematch later," Zevran bowed but kept his eyes to Alistair. They had a gentlemen's agreement when it came to being within ten meters of each other. The gesture was returned before Alistair looked to Izarre.

"You shouldn't be up fighting like this. You should…"

"I'm fine now," Izarre snapped, still frustrated over losing the fight.

"You're not fine. Look at how you're fighting. You're…"

"That's…not because of my wounds. Those are healed."

"It's not?" Alistair questioned, not believing a word of it. "What is it then?" But he didn't get an answer as Izarre plucked the two swords up as Morrigan walked over.

"If you're quite done with your contest, I would speak to you on an important matter," she said as she clutched her mother's black book closely to her chest. "Tis better without prying eyes."

"Anything you have to say, you can say it to the both of us," Alistair said as he crossed his arms. While Morrigan furrowed her eyebrows in annoyance, she needed help badly enough as to put up with his nonsense.

"Fine, I need you… to kill my mother." Such a bold statement shocked both wardens enough to drop whatever built-up tension was there.

"You…want us to what now?"

"Are you deaf as well as stupid? I need you to depose of my mother…before does to me what she has done to her other daughters." Holding up the book, she tapped the aged cover with an index finger and explained in detail how Flemeth repeatedly defied the aging process. Morrigan, in fear of her body being taken over, needed someone else to get rid of the old woman on her behalf. Izarre reluctantly agreed to her terms, if only to speak to Flemeth in private about the accusation. There was some admittance on her part, but neither warden found it very convincing. Whatever Flemeth truly was, she had saved them for reasons they didn't understand and, at this point, didn't really care to. A favor for a favor, they thought. Her life was spared and in return, they were given a book to satisfy her daughter's curiosity. It was enough to convince Morrigan that her mother was gone, for now at least.

That evening, Izarre also pulled some strings of his own, finally convincing Alistair to pack up camp and move for Orzammar. Getting inside was only a matter of showing their credentials by means of the treaty, but obtaining any sort of cooperation once past the city's walls was an entirely different matter. Orzammar stood on the brink of a civil war that divided the citizens between a traditionalist noble and a driven prince. If not for Bhelen's brutal methods, Izarre may have taken the young royal's side with new ideas involving open trade and a casteless system, but unfortunately killing guards in the street for only trying to keep the peace meant that the wardens turned their favored to Lord Harrowmont instead. He was a weak man, comfortable in tradition to be sure, but at least he wasn't someone who insinuated riots.

Still, it miffed the party to be turned away from an audience with him unless they showed proof of their loyalty in the gladiatorial arena. The Proving Grounds held a scared meaning to the Dwarves. It was where scores were settled when words and coin weren't enough to repay a debt or mend an insult, but not everyone was happy when Izarre volunteered himself to be Harrowmont's champion. "Wait," Alistair whispered as he pulled his lover aside in the common waiting room just outside of the fighting zone. "Are you sure about this?"

"About Harrowmont?" Izarre asked and shrugged. "He seems less of a psychotic killer than Bhelen is. An old fool who lives in luxury and fear. We can use that to take control of his army for the Blight," he answered as he adjusted his gloves straps, but was surprised as he was taken by the shoulders.

"That's not what I meant. You're about to go fight some of the fiercest warriors this place has to offer. Alone, mind you, and I saw you with Zevran. You're not…"

"How dare you!" Alistair's face fell as he was pulled away from as he knew he had crossed a line, but it didn't stop him from being worried. He had every bit of Izarre's body converted to memory and was first to notice its ongoing deterioration. Something was _wrong_, but he couldn't place as to what it was. "Do _not_ confuse me for some helpless flower. I'm not some delicate thing in need of your constant protection. I never was and I never will be. I never asked for your help in the first place."

"Warden? Are you ready to go?" The Proving Master interrupted their tense conversation. Turning, Izarre gave a nod. "Great." He moved to head towards the exit with the irate white-haired combatant following, Izarre's arm was grabbed by Alistair once again. They stared at each other briefly, yet said nothing. Yanking the arm away, Izarre continued his way out of the arena. Alistair was hurt, putting his hand to his mouth trying not to scream profanities and went to the balcony with the rest of his friends to watch the fight. Below, Izarre emerged from the double doors and looked up to his audience. Seeing how Alistair looked down at him was disheartening, but he needed to focus on the enemies in ahead.

The first few rounds were won without much difficulty. He played his role as champion, never calling for aid even when it was allowed. The final match was intended to be a group expedition, but as he faced them on his own, it proved to be more than he handle. After taking out the archer, Izarre was blindsided by a shield bash to the still wounded shoulder that never healed properly from Ostagar. Despite Wynne using several different healing spells, his body had begun to reject the beneficial magic. The Cousland sword dropped from his hand, only to be kicked to the edge of the arena by a stout Dwarven warrior before it could be retaken. A blind slash with Duncan's sword only clashed against the iron-plated armor he wore as a stealthed rogue sliced Izarre's sword arm. The second weapon fell to the ground and was kicked away as well. Bhelen's fighters circled the warden's crumbled and bleeding body, taunting him with kicks of dust and bravado for the crowd.

From the balcony, Alistair was being held back from jumping over the rail by Zevran as Wynne and Morrigan watched with stoic eyes. "Why does he hold back?" the younger mage snapped. "Tis a fool who limits their power such as this." Wynne sighed in disapproval, but felt herself in agreement.

"He struggles with his nature, but I fear if he does not relinquish some control, it will be the end of him far too soon."

"What are you talking about? What's wrong with him?!" Alistair demanded to know as he finally broke free.

"Mages are…conduits. We are not vessels," the elderly woman attempted to explain. "Magic flows through us like a river and is not meant to be contained. It you dam it up, it will eventually overflow and…"

"And destroy the dam," Morrigan smiled as she watched the fight with some interest now. "And the village surrounding it."

"What?" Even though Alistair had no idea what any of that really meant, he still didn't like the sound of it. "What do you mean by _destroy the dam_?"

"My, such the slow one," Morrigan teased as she rolled her eyes. "Your little friend down there refuses to use the magic building up inside. Tis turning against him." Oh, now he understood.

"IZZY!" Alistair yelled as he practically hung off the ledge. "Cast a spell!" but he couldn't be heard with over the chanting crowd. The reluctant mage crotched on the ground, panting as he watched a puddle of his own blood grow larger beneath him. He could hear his heartbeat slowing down as if his time was nearly up. The cheers grew began to deafen and his eyes grew dark as he clenched his fists, forcing himself to stand. The rogue tiptoed behind to put in a finishing blow in his back, but something happened. As the Dwarf swung the daggers, they hit nothing by air. The warden had ducked down and slashed at the leather-covered mid-section with nothing but an empty fist, so why did it hurt? Looking down, the fighter saw a large gash in his chest piece that was dangerously close to spilling his innards. The white-haired human was still posed with an extended arm, but fresh blood dripped from thin air in front of his hand.

"How?" the rogue muttered before falling to the ground. It was only from that angle when he could see the blades of a nearly invisible wing-shaped weapon. The sharp edges where made entirely out of ice and spanned in both directions nearly the length of the dwarf himself. The mage's body erupted in a blue blaze as he moved to attack the warrior next. His other hand also had the same manifested weapon attached, but they pinged off the heavy armor and shield. Every deflected blow caused the ice to chip but snowy white cloud of magic puffed to instantly repair the edges every time. Unable to land a critical hit to turn the fight in his favor, Izarre jumped away instead and used both hands to punch the ground. The dirt rapidly crackled and froze over with no escape in sight. The ice captured the wounded archer, rouge, and finally the warrior in its web. It even crept halfway up the arena's walls before the warden stopped himself. Panting, he looked around as his flames dispelled. The stunned crowd fell silent and with no remaining champions to fight on Bhelen's behalf, a winner was declared.


End file.
